THE  GORGEOUS  IS&E 


THE     GORGEOUS     ISLE 


"At  this  point  she  became  aware  that  Warner  was  standing  beside  her" 


The  Gorgeous  Isle 

By 
GERTRUDE   ATHERTON 


A  ROMANCE 
Scene:    Nevis.  B.  W.  L,  1842 


ILLUSTRATED    BY    C.    COLES    PHILLIPS 


GROSSET   &    DUNLAP 

NEW  YORK 


COPYRIGHT,  1908,  BV 
THK    BSS   ESS  PUBLISHING   COMPANY 


COPYRIGHT,    IQ08,    BY   GERTRUDE   ATHKRTON 
PUBLISHED,    OCTOBER,    1908 


ALL   RIGHTS   RESERVED,    INCLUDING  THAT   OF  TRANSLATION 
INTO   FOREIGN    LANGUAGES,    INCLUDING  THK   SCANDINAVIAN 


SBU 

URL  5141912 


TO 
MRS.  SPENCER  WIGLEY,  OF  ST.  KITTS,  B.  W.  1. 


"We  are  all  souls  of  fire  and  children  of  the  sun." 

— Helmholtz. 


NOTES 

BATH  HOUSE.  This  hotel  was  erected  in  1804  at  a 
cost  of  £40,000,  although  built  entirely  by  slaves.  Its 
yaried  and  brilliant  career  came  to  an  end  some  time  in  the 
forties.  The  tide  of  fashion  turned,  and  as  it  was  too  large 
for  a  private  residence,  it  was  left  to  the  elements.  Earth- 
quakes have  riven  it,  hurricanes  unroofed  it,  and  time 
devoured  it,  but  it  is  still  magnificent  in  its  ruin. 

ATLANTIS.  Bacon,  in  "The  New  Atlantis,"  assumes 
America  to  be  the  fabled  continent  of  Atlantis,  which, 
according  to  his  theory,  was  not  submerged,  but  flooded  to 
such  an  extent  that  all  the  inhabitants  perished  except  the 
few  that  fled  to  the  highest  mountain  tops.  I  have,  how- 
ever, preferred  to  adopt  the  Platonic  theory,  as  at  once 
more  plausible  and  interesting. 

QUEEN  ELIZABETH'S  RING.  West  Indian  tradition  gives 
this  historic  ring  to  the  Warner  family,  as  related  in  the 
story.  It  descended  in  the  direct  line  to  Colonel  Edward 
Warner,  who  bequeathed  it  by  will  to  his  brother,  Ashton 
Warner,  as  "  a  diamond  ring  in  shape  of  a  heart,  given  by 
Queen  Elizabeth  to  the  Earl  of  Essex."  This  will,  dated 
27th  of  December,  1732,  was  proved  in  the  Probate  Court 
of  Canterbury,  England,  on  the  21st  of  February  following. 
From  Ashton  Warner  it  descended  to  his  son  Joseph,  and  at 
the  date  of  the  story  was  in  the  possession  of  Charles 
Warner,  Esq.,  Solicitor-General  of  Trinidad,  B.  W.  I. 


THE     GORGEOUS     ISLE 


The  Gorgeous  Isle 

CHAPTER  I 

"OATH  HOUSE,  the  most  ambitious  struc- 
ture  ever  erected  in  the  West  Indies, 
and  perhaps  the  most  beautiful  hotel  the 
world  has  ever  seen,  was  the  popular  winter 
refuge  of  English  people  of  fashion  in  the 
earlier  half  of  the  nineteenth  century.  This 
immense  irregular  pile  of  masonry  stood  on 
a  terraced  eminence  rising  from  the  flat  border 
of  Nevis,  a  volcano  whose  fires  had  migrated 
to  less  fortunate  isles  and  covered  with 
some  fifty  square  miles  of  soil  that  yielded 
every  luxury  of  the  Antilles.  There  was 
game  in  the  jungles,  fish  in  the  sea,  did  the 
men  desire  sport;  there  were  groves  of  palm 
and  cocoanut  for  picnics,  a  town  like  a  bazaar, 
a  drive  of  twenty-four  miles  round  the  base 
of  the  ever-beautiful  ever-changing  mountain; 
and  a  sloop  always  ready  to  convey  the  guests 
to  St.  Kitts,  Montserrat,  or  Antigua,  where 

they  were   sure   of   entertainment   from   the 

s 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 


hospitable  planters.  There  were  sea  baths 
and  sulphur  baths;  above  all,  the  air  was  light 
and  stimulating  on  the  hottest  days,  for  the 
trade  winds  rarely  deserted  Nevis  and  St. 
Kitts,  no  matter  what  the  fate  of  the  rest  of 
that  blooming  archipelago. 

Bath  House  was  surrounded  by  wide  gar- 
dens of  tropical  trees,  ferns,  and  flowers  of 
gay  and  delicate  hues.  Its  several  terraces 
flamed  with  colour,  as  well  as  its  nu- 
merous little  balconies  and  galleries,  and 
the  flat  surfaces  of  the  roof:  the  whole 
effect  being  that  of  an  Eastern  palace 
with  hanging  gardens,  a  vast  pleasure 
house,  designed  for  some  extravagant  and 
voluptuous  potentate.  Anything  less  like  an 
hotel  had  never  been  erected ;  and  the  interior, 
with  its  lofty  pillared  rooms,  its  costly  mahog- 
any furniture,  its  panels  and  hangings  of  rich 
brocades,  the  thick  rugs  on  the  polished 
floors,  if  more  European  than  Oriental,  equally 
resembled  a  palace;  an  effect  in  no  wise 
diminished  by  the  brilliant  plumage  of  the 
guests.  If  the  climate  compelled  them  to 
forswear  velvet  and  satin,  their  "muslins  were 
from  Bengal  and  their  silks  from  Benares"; 
and  as  the  daughters  of  the  planters  emulated 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 


these  birds  of  fashion  in  all  things,  Nevis  in 
winter  would  have  been  independent  of  its 
gorgeous  birds  and  flowers:  the  bonnets 
were  miracles  of  posies  and  plumes,  and  the 
crinoline  set  off  the  costly  materials,  the 
flounces  and  fringes,  the  streamers  and 
rosettes,  the  frills  of  lace  old  and  new.  And 
as  the  English  Creoles  with  their  skin  like 
porcelain,  and  their  small  dainty  figures, 
imitated  their  more  rosy  and  well-grown 
sisters  of  the  North,  the  handsome  strapping 
coloured  wenches  copied  their  island  betters 
in  materials  which  if  flimsy  were  no  less 
bright;  so  it  is  no  matter  for  wonder  that  the 
young  bloods  came  from  London  to  admire 
and  loiter  and  flirt  in  an  enchanted  clime 
that  seemed  made  for  naught  else,  that  the 
sons  of  the  planters  sent  to  London  for  their 
own  finery,  and  the  young  coloured  bucks 
strutted  about  like  peacocks  on  such  days  as 
they  were  not  grinding  cane  or  serving  the 
reckless  guests  of  Bath  House  in  the  shops  of 
Charlestown. 

That  was  the  heyday  of  Nevis,  a  time  of 
luxury  and  splendour  and  gaiety  unknown 
on  even  the  most  fertile  of  the  other  islands, 
for  none  other  was  ever  bold  enough  to  ven- 


6  THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

ture  such  an  hotel; and  if  the  bold  adventurer 
came  to  grief,  as  was  inevitable,  still  all 
honour  to  him  for  his  spirit,  and  the  brief 
glory  he  gave  to  the  loveliest  island  of  the 
Caribbees. 


CHAPTER  II 

Anne  Percy  smiled  her  mouth 
looked  ripe  and  eager  for  pleasure, 
her  eyes  sparkled  with  youth  and  gaiety, 
but  when  shy  or  thoughtful  or  impatient  her 
mouth  was  too  large  and  closely  set,  her  low 
thick  brows  made  her  eyes  look  sullen  and 
opaque,  their  blue  too  dark  even  for  beauty. 
It  was  a  day  when  "pencilled"  eyebrows 
inspired  the  sonnet,  when  mouths  were  rose- 
buds, or  should  be  for  fashion's  sake,  when 
forms  were  slight  and  languid,  and  a  freckle 
was  a  blemish  on  the  pink  and  white  com- 
plexions of  England's  high-born  maidens. 
Anne  was  tanned  by  the  winds  of  moor  and 
sea,  she  had  a  superb  majestic  figure,  and 
strode  when  she  took  her  exercise  in  a  thor- 
oughly unladylike  manner.  She  had  not  an 
attribute,  not  even  an  affectation,  in  common 
with  the  beauties  of  Bath  House;  and  the 
reigning  novelists  of  the  day,  Disraeli,  Bulwer, 
Dickens,  Lady  Blessington,  Mrs.  Norton, 
would  never  have  modelled  a  heroine  of 

7 


8  THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

romance  on  her.  There  were  plenty  of  fine 
women  in  England  even  then,  but  they  were 
not  in  fashion,  and  when  fate  took  them  to 
court  they  soon  learned  to  reduce  their  pro- 
portions, mince  their  gait,  and  bleach  their 
complexions. 

But  Anne  had  not  yet  been  to  court  and 
had  arrived  that  day  at  Bath  House.  She 
drew  down  her  heavy  brows  and  looked  as 
haughty  as  she  felt  shy  and  impatient,  staring 
at  the  dark  oblongs  of  open  window,  beyond 
which,  effaced  by  the  glare  about  her,  was 
the  warm  perfumed  tropic  night.  But  in  the 
early  Victorian  era  it  would  not  have  been 
thought  becoming  for  a  girl  to  step  out  upon 
a  terrace  alone,  nor,  indeed,  to  leave  the  wing 
of  her  chaperon,  save  briefly  for  the  dance. 
Anne  did  not  dance,  and  had  remained  in 
the  great  saloon  after  dinner  watching  with 
deep  interest,  for  a  time,  the  groups  of  men 
and  women  in  evening  dress,  playing  whist 
or  loo,  the  affected  young  ladies  and  their 
gallants,  strolling  in  from  the  music  room,  to 
show  themselves  off  in  the  long  lane  between 
the  tables.  But  the  sight,  the  most  splendid 
she  had  ever  seen,  had  palled,  the  glare  of  the 
innumerable  candles,  reflected  in  the  mirrors, 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE  9 

and  even  the  crimson  brocade  of  the  walls, 
dazzled  her  eyes.  She  had  her  reasons,  more- 
over, for  wishing  to  be  alone,  a  condition  she 
had  not  realised  since  she  had  left  England, 
now  nearly  a  month  since,  and  she  fairly 
sprang  to  her  feet  as  her  aunt  laid  down  her 
cards  and  signified  that  it  was  her  pleasure 
to  retire.  Anne  rearranged  Mrs.  Nunn's 
lace  shawl,  which  had  fallen  to  her  waist  in 
the  ardour  of  the  game,  gathered  up  her  fan, 
smelling-salts,  and  winnings,  then,  with  a 
slight  drop  in  her  spirit,  steeled  herself  to 
walk  the  great  length  of  the  saloon  to  the 
thrice  blessed  exit.  Mrs.  Nunn,  who  had  been 
a  beauty,  and  always  a  woman  of  fashion, 
sailed  along  like  a  light  sloop  on  a  mild  after- 
noon, her  curves  of  time  and  crinoline  not 
unlike  sails  filled  by  a  gentle  breeze ;  affectedly 
unconscious  but  quite  aware  that  many  a 
card  was  laid  down  as  she  rustled  by,  and  that 
all  the  winter  world  of  Nevis  already  knew 
that  the  fashionable  Mrs.  Nunn,  sister  of  one 
of  the  ladies  of  the  bed-chamber,  had  arrived 
by  the  afternoon  packet,  and  eagerly  antici- 
pated the  intimate  bits  of  court  gossip  with 
which  she  might  condescend  to  regale  them. 
But  Miss  Percy  knew  naught  of  courts  and 


10  THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

l'':tle  of  drawing-rooms,  and  although  pride 
1  ekl  up  her  chin,  and  she  tried  to  reflect  that 
the  moors  had  given  her  a  finer,  freer  carriage 
than  any  of  these  languishing  girls  could 
boast,  she  followed  her  imposing  chaperon 
with  a  furious  beating  of  the  heart;  a  condition 
which  gave  her,  as  the  elegant  Miss  Bargarny 
remarked  to  the  elegant  Mr.  Abergenny, 
the  colour  of  a  milkmaid.  But  although  the 
blood  of  the  girl  bred  in  a  remote  corner  of 
England  was  warm  and  rich  in  her  veins, 
and  her  skin  was  tanned,  it  would  take  more 
than  colour  to  coarsen  her  features,  and 
perhaps  it  was  the  straight  nose  of  the  Percys 
which  enabled  her  to  step  calmly  along  in  the 
wake  of  her  aunt  whilst  wishing  that  she  might 
fly  through  one  of  the  windows.  (A  good  nose 
is  the  backbone  of  moral  fortitude.)  Although 
there  were  arches  leading  into  drawing- 
rooms,  and  morning-rooms,  there  was  but  one 
exit  to  the  staircase,  and  in  spite  of  the  gran- 
deur and  the  masses  of  palms  and  tropic 
flowers  everywhere,  the  hotel  had  ceased  to 
look  like  a  fairy  palace  to  the  girl  who  had 
only  paused  long  enough  in  her  journey  from 
her  old  manor  to  furnish  her  wardrobe  in 
the  darkest  and  dirtiest  of  winter  cities.  She 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE  11 

had  felt  like  the  enchanted  princess  in  tl*3 
fairy  tale  for  a  few  hours,  but  now  she  Ion  ;ed 
for  nothing  but  her  balcony  upstairs. 

She  had  begun  to  wonder  if  she  might  beg 
her  aunt  to  accelerate  her  lady-like  gait, 
when,  to  her  horror,  Mrs.  Nunn  was  signalled 
by  an  acquaintance,  as  yet  unseen,  and 
promptly  sat  down  at  her  table;  announcing 
that  she  tarried  but  a  moment.  There  was 
no  other  vacant  chair;  all  near  by  were 
occupied  by  dames  as  imposing  as  Mrs.  Nunn 
or  by  elderly  gentlemen  who  bent  the  more 
attentively  over  their  cards.  There  was 
nothing  for  Anne  to  do  but  draw  herself  up 
to  her  full  height,  and  look  quite  indifferent 
to  being  the  only  woman  in  the  room  to  stand 
and  invite  the  critical  eye.  In  the  early 
forties  "young  females"  were  expected  to  be 
retiring,  modest,  and  although  they  were  as 
often  not,  by  the  grace  of  that  human  nature 
which  has  changed  little  in  its  progress  down 
the  centuries,  they  maintained  a  decent  pre- 
tence. There  were  a  number  of  belles  in  the 
room,  with  their  attendant  swains,  and  no 
doubt  each  thought  herself  a  great  beauty; 
but  not  one  of  them  would  have  stood  up 
alone  in  the  central  promenade  of  Bath  House. 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 


Several  of  the  men  stared  in  disapproval; 
which  emboldened  their  fair  partners  to  make 
disparaging  remarks,  until  it  was  observed 
that  Lord  Hunsdon,  the  greatest  parti  in  the 
matrimonial  market,  had  gone  in  search  of 
a  chair. 

Anne  longed  to  fold  the  arms  she  knew  not 
what  to  do  with,  but  apprehending  open 
laughter,  held  them  rigidly  to  her  sides, 
shooting  anxious  glances  at  the  opposite 
mirror.  She  encountered  a  battery  of  eyes. 
At  the  same  time  she  heard  a  suppressed 
titter.  It  was  only  by  an  effort  of  will  that 
she  refrained  from  running  out  of  the  room, 
and  she  felt  as  if  she  had  been  dipped  in  the 
hot  springs  of  Nevis.  It  was  at  this  agonising 
moment  that  the  amiable  Lord  Hunsdon 
presented  the  chair,  with  the  murmured 
hope  that  he  was  not  taking  a  liberty  and  that 
she  recalled  his  having  had  the  good  for- 
tune to  be  presented  to  her  by  his  friend  Mrs. 
Nunn  earlier  in  the  day.  Anne,  muttering 
her  gratitude,  accepted  the  chair  without 
looking  at  him,  although  after  he  had  retired 
her  conscience  smote  her  and  she  would  have 
made  an  effort  to  be  agreeable  had  he  lingered. 
But  immediately  she  caught  the  drift  of  a 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE  13 

dialogue  between  two  women  at  a  neighbour- 
ing table,  where  the  play  had  stopped,  that 
had  beaten  faintly  upon  her  ears  before  she 
sank  out  of  sight ;  and  in  a  moment  she  was 
conscious  of  nothing  else. 

"My  son  insists  that  it  is  my  duty  to  help 
him,  and  I  am  inclined  to  agree  with  him," 
a  clear  decided  voice  announced.  "And 
after  all  he  is  a  gentleman,  to  say  nothing  of 
the  fact  that  time  was  when  he  had  to  hide 
himself  from  the  importunities  of  Bath  House. 
But  since  that  unhappy  affair  —  I  fear  our 
sex  had  much  to  answer  for  —  but  he  has 
suffered  enough " 

"No  doubt!"  broke  in  a  caustic  voice, 
"but  that  is  hardly  the  point.  He  has  taken 
to  ways  of  relieving  his  sufferings  which  make 
him  quite  unfit  for  decent  society " 

"He  can  be  reformed." 

"Fiddlesticks.  No  one  ever  reforms.  He 
merely  changes  his  vice.  And  he!  Mr.  Mort- 
lake,  who  is  fond  of  what  he  calls  the  pictur- 
esqueness  of  Charlestown  by  night,  has  seen 
him  —  well,  it  is  enough  that  I  should  have 
heard.  You  have  been  too  intimate  with  the 
little  Queen  lately.  You  never  could  stand 
it!  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  brandy,  or  rum, 


14  THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

or  whatever  he  takes  by  the  barrel,  makes  a 
madman  of  him." 

"I   have   heard   these   stories,    but   I   also 
know     that    he    only    drinks    by    fits     and 


"  Worse  and  worse." 

:<Well!"  in  tones  of  great  decision,  "since 
a  woman,  and  a  woman  of  our  own  class 
ruined  him,  Constance  Mortlake,  I  believe 
it  to  be  the  duty  of  our  sex  and  rank  to  redeem 
him.  Do  you,"  with  high  and  increasing 
impatience,  "realise  that  the  man  is  a  genius, 
the  poet  of  the  age?" 

"Have  n't  I  always  doted  on  poetry  since  I 
was  in  love  with  Byron?  But  we  can  buy 
this  young  man's  poetry  for  a  guinea  a 
volume  —  ten  guineas  for  special  editions 
at  Christmas.  I  hear  that  Lady  Blessington 
paid  him  a  hundred  pounds  for  three  pages 
in  last  year's  'Book  of  Beauty.'  I  am  glad 
he  is  in  no  danger  of  starving,  and  am  quite 
willing  to  do  my  little  share  toward  keeping 
him  off  the  parish;  but  I  prefer  to  enjoy  his 
genius  without  being  inflicted  by  the  horrid 
tenement  in  which  that  genius  has  taken  up 
its  abode.  Most  undiscriminating  faculty 
genius  seems  to  be.  Besides,  I  have  no 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE  15 

respect  for  a  man  who  lets  his  life  be  ruined 
by  a  woman.  Heavens,  supposing  we  —  we 
women 

'You  can't  have  everything,  and  a  man 
who  can  write  like  Byam  Warner " 

"Don't  believe  you  ever  read  a  line  of  him. 
What  on  earth  has  a  leader  of  ton  to  do  with 
poetry,  unless,  to  be  sure,  to  read  up  a  bit 
before  caging  the  lion  for  a  dinner  where 
everybody  will  bore  the  poor  wretch  to  death 
by  quoting  his  worst  lines  at  him.  As  for 
Warner  there  is  no  question  that  he  writes 
even  better  than  before  he  went  to  the  dogs, 
and  that,  to  my  mind,  is  proof  that  he  holds 
his  gifts  in  fief  from  the  devil  not  from 
Almighty  God " 

"Out  upon  you  for  a  bigot.  I  should  think 
you  had  lived  in  this  world  long  enough  - 

"Was  there  ever  on  this  earth  a  more 
virtuous  court  than  our  young  Queen's, 
Maria  Hunsdon?" 

"It  is  too  good  to  last.  And  it  is  not  so 
long  ago 

"Let  us  be  permitted  to  forget  the  court  of 
that  iniquitous  man"— Anne  could  see  a 
large-veined  hand  wave  in  the  direction  of  a 
long  portrait  of  George  IV.  — "since  we  are 


16  THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

mercifully  and  at  last  permitted  so  to  do. 
Besides,"  changing  the  subject  hastily,  "I 
believe  in  predestination.  You  forget  that 
although  married  these  thousand  years  to  an 
Englishman  I  am  a  Scot  by  birth  - 

But  Anne  heard  no  more,  although  her  ears 
were  thirsty.  Mrs.  Nunn  brought  her  amiable 
nothings  to  a  close,  and  a  moment  later  they 
were  ascending  the  great  staircase,  where  the 
pretty  little  Queen  and  her  stately  husband 
smiled  alike  on  the  just  and  the  unjust. 

Mrs.  Nunn  entered  Anne's  room  before 
passing  on  to  her  own.  As  hostess  to  her 
young  relative  whose  income  would  not  have 
permitted  her  to  visit  this  most  fashionable 
of  winter  cities  uninvited,  it  behooved  her 
to  see  that  the  guest  lacked  no  comfort.  She 
was  a  selfish  old  woman,  but  she  rarely  forgot 
her  manners. 

"These  coloured  servants  are  so  inefficient," 
she  remarked  as  she  peered  into  the  water  jars 
and  shook  the  mosquito  netting.  "This  is 
my  third  visit  here,  so  they  are  as  disposed  to 
respect  my  orders  as  their  limited  intelligence 
and  careless  habits  will  permit.  I  should 
always  advise  you  to  look  in  and  under  the 
bed  —  not  for  bad  characters,  but  for  cater- 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE  17 

pillars  as  long  as  your  two  hands,  to  say 
nothing  of  ants.  There  are  no  snakes  on  the 
island,  but  I  believe  land  crabs  have  been  seen 
on  the  stairs,  and  I  am  sure  I  never  should 
recover  if  I  got  into  bed  with  one.  The  maid 
will  bring  your  coffee  about  six.  I  shall  not 
appear  till  the  half -after-nine  breakfast." 

"Then  you  will  not  mind  if  I  go  out  for  a 
walk?" 

"Dear  me,  no.  This  is  not  London.  But 
of  course  you  will  not  permit  a  gentleman  to 
attend  you." 

"As  I  do  not  know  any " 

"But  you  will,"  said  Mrs.  Nunn  amiably. 

'You  are  handsome,  my  dear,  if  not  quite 

a  la  mode.     I  am  glad  you  must  wear  white  in 

this  climate.     It  becomes  you  far  better  than 

black.     Good  night." 

She  was  gone  at  last.  Anne  locked  the 
door  that  she  might  know  to  the  full  the  joy 
of  being  alone.  She  shook  down  her  hair 
impatiently.  In  spite  of  her  twenty- two  years, 
she  had  worn  it  in  pendant  braids,  save  at 
the  dinner  hour,  until  her  capture  by  Mrs. 
Nunn.  It  was  rich,  heavy,  dark  hair,  bright 
with  much  gold,  worn  in  a  bunch  of  curls 
on  either  side  of  the  face  and  coiled  low  on 


18  THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

the  neck.  Anne  made  a  little  face  at  herself 
in  the  glass.  She  knew  that  she  possessed 
a  noble,  straight,  full  figure,  but  she  saw  no 
beauty  in  the  sunburnt  skin,  the  square  jaw, 
the  eyebrows  as  wide  as  her  finger.  Her 
mouth  was  also  too  large,  her  eyelashes  too 
short.  She  had  her  ideals  of  beauty,  and, 
having  read  many  romances,  they  were  the 
conventional  ideals  of  the  day.  She  smiled 
at  her  aunt's  hint  that  she  might  find  favour 
in  the  eyes  of  the  beaux  of  Bath  House.  She 
knew  nothing  of  the  jargon  of  "the  world," 
nothing  of  men.  Nor  did  she  desire  knowl- 
edge of  either.  Even  had  her  father  shown 
any  disposition  to  part  with  his  only  com- 
panion, she  would  have  refused  Mrs.  Nunn's 
invitations  to  pass  a  season  in  London,  for 
she  lived  an  inner  life  which  gave  her  an 
increasing  distaste  for  realities.  It  was  before 
the  day  when  women,  unimpelled  by  poverty 
or  genius,  flew  to  the  ink-pot  with  their  over- 
burdened imaginations.  To  write  a  book 
had  never  occurred  to  Anne,  although  she  had 
led  a  lonely  life  in  a  forgotten  corner  of 
England  where  even  her  duties  were  few; 
the  old  servants  knew  their  tasks  before  she 
was  born,  and  her  father  preferred  his  pen 


19 


and  his  laboratory  to  the  society  of  his  daugh- 
ter. She  must  preside  at  his  table,  but  between 
whiles  she  could  spend  her  time  on  the  sea  or 
the  moors,  in  the  library  or  with  her  needle- 
work —  the  era  of  governesses  passing  —  as 
she  listed. 

And  the  wild  North  Sea,  the  moors  and  her 
books,  above  all,  her  dreams,  had  sufficed. 
Her  vivid  and  intense  imagination  had  trans- 
lated her  surroundings  into  the  past,  into  far- 
off  countries  of  which  she  knew  as  much  as 
any  traveller,  oftener  and  still  oftener  to  the 
tropics,  to  this  very  island  of  Nevis.  Then, 
suddenly,  her  father  had  died,  leaving  her, 
until  she  reached  the  age  of  five-and-twenty, 
in  the  guardianship  of  his  sister.  Mrs.  Nunn, 
who  purposed  making  her  favourite  pilgrimage 
the  following  winter,  insisted  that  Anne  accom- 
pany her,  and  finally  rented  the  manor  over 
her  head  that  she  be  forced  to  comply.  The 
truth  was  she  intended  to  marry  the  girl  as 
soon  as  possible  and  had  no  mind  that  she 
should  squander  any  more  of  her  youth  unseen 
by  man.  The  shrewd  old  woman  knew  the 
value  of  that  very  ignorance  of  convention, 
that  lack  of  feminine  arts  and  wiles,  so  assidu- 
ously cultivated  by  young  ladies  in  the  matri- 


20  THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

monial  market,  that  suggestion  of  untrammelled 
nature,  so  humbly  deprecated  by  Anne. 
Moreover,  concluded  Mrs.  Nunn,  ruffling 
herself,  she  was  a  Percy  and  could  not  but 
look  well-bred,  no  matter  how  ill  she  managed 
her  hoop  or  curled  her  hair. 

But  although  Mrs.  Nunn  could  appraise  the 
market  value  of  a  comely  exterior  and  the 
more  primitive  charms  of  nature,  of  Anne 
Percy  she  knew  nothing.  She  had  puzzled 
for  a  moment  at  the  vehement  refusal  of  the 
young  recluse  to  visit  the  West  Indies,  and 
even  more  at  her  ill-suppressed  exultation 
when  she  realised  that  the  migration  was 
settled.  But,  she  concluded,  there  was  no 
accounting  for  the  vagaries  of  the  girl-brain, 
and  dismissed  the  subject.  Of  the  deep  and 
passionate  maturity  of  Anne  Percy's  brain, 
of  the  reasons  for  the  alternate  terror  and 
delight  at  the  prospect  of  visiting-  Nevis,  she 
had  not  a  suspicion.  If  she  had  she  would 
have  hastened  to  leave  her  to  the  roar  of  the 
North  Sea  and  the  wild  voices  of  the  moor. 


CHAPTER  III 

A  NNE,  free  of  the  tight  gown  in  which 
**•  she  had  encased  her  rebellious  form 
for  the  benefit  of  the  fine  folk  of  Bath  House, 
wrapped  herself  in  a  long  black  mantle,  drew 
down  the  curving  glass  globes  that  protected 
the  candles  from  draught  and  insects,  and 
stepped  out  upon  her  balcony.  She  even 
closed  the  window  behind  her;  and  then  at 
last  she  felt  that  she  was  indeed  on  Nevis  — 
and  alone.  Before  her  rose  the  dark  cone  of 
the  old  volcano,  its  graceful  sweep  dim 
against  the  background  of  stars ;  and  the  white 
cloud  that  ever  floated  about  its  summit  like 
the  ghost  of  dead  fires  was  crawling  down  the 
slopes  to  the  little  town  at  its  base.  From 
this  small  but  teeming  capital  came  fitful 
sounds  of  music  and  of  less  decorous  revelry, 
and  its  lights  seemed  to  flit  through  the 
groves  of  palm  and  cocoanut  trees,  gently 
moving  in  the  night  breeze. 

Below  the  hotel,   no   man  stirred.     Anne 
stood  with  suspended  breath  and  half  closed 

21 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 


eyes.  At  this  end  of  the  island  it  was  as  still 
as  death  and  almost  as  dark.  There  was  no 
moon,  and  the  great  crystal  stars  barely 
defined  the  mountain  and  the  tall  slender 
shafts  and  high  verdure  of  the  royal  palm. 
Far  away  she  saw  a  double  row  of  lights  on 
St.  Kitts,  the  open  windows  doubtless  of 
Government  House  in  the  capital,  Basseterre, 
where  a  ball  that  had  taken  half  the  guests 
of  Bath  House  was  in  progress. 

In  a  few  moments  she  became  aware  of  other 
impressions  besides  the  silence  and  the  dark. 
The  air  was  so  warm,  so  caressing,  so  soft,  that 
she  swayed  slightly  as  if  to  meet  it.  The  deep 
delicious  perfumes  of  tropical  blooms,  even 
of  tree  and  shrub,  would  have  been  over- 
powering had  it  not  been  for  the  lightness  of 
the  air  and  the  constant  though  gentle  wind. 
Bred  upon  harsh  salt  winds,  living  a  life  of 
Spartan  simplicity,  where  the  sprigs  of 
lavender  in  the  linen  closet  wafted  all 
she  knew  of  scent  to  her  eager  nostrils, 
this  first  moment  of  tropical  pleasure  con- 
fused itself  with  the  dreams  of  years,  and 
she  hardly  dared  open  her  eyes  lest  Nevis 
vanish  and  she  find  herself  striding  over  the 
moor,  her  head  down,  her  hands  clutching 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 


her  cape,  while  the  North  Sea  thundered 
in  her  ears. 

She  lifted  her  head  suddenly,  straining  her 
own  throat.  A  bird  poured  forth  a  flood  of 
melody  that  seemed  to  give  voice  to  the  per- 
fumes and  the  rich  beauty  of  the  night,  with- 
out troubling  the  silence.  She  had  read  of 
this  "nightingale  of  a  tropic  noon"  but  had 
not  imagined  that  a  small  brown  bird,  bred 
below  the  equator,  could  rival  in  power  and 
dulcet  tones  the  great  songster  of  the  North. 
But  it  sang  as  if  its  throat  had  the  compass  of  a 
Mario's,  and  in  a  moment  another  philomel 
pealed  forth  his  desire,  then  another,  and 
another,  until  the  whole  island  seemed  to 
swirl  in  a  musical  tide.  Anne,  with  a  sudden 
unconscious  gesture,  opened  her  arms  and 
flung  them  out,  as  if  to  embrace  and  hold  all 
the  enchantment  of  a  Southern  night  before 
it  fled;  and  for  the  first  time  in  her  life  she 
found  that  realities  could  give  the  spirit  a 
deep  intoxicating  draught. 

The  nightingales  trilled  into  silence.  The 
last  sweet  note  seemed  to  drift  out  over  the 
water,  and  then  Anne  heard  another  sound, 
the  deep  low  murmur  of  the  Caribbean  Sea. 
Her  mind  swung  to  Byam  Warner,  to  the 


24  THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

extraordinary  poem  which  ten  years  ago  had 
made  his  fame  and  interpreted  this  unceasing 
melancholy  of  the  sea's  chant  into  a  dirge  over 
the  buried  continent  and  its  fate.  With  the 
passionate  energy  of  youthful  genius  abandon- 
ing itself  to  the  ecstasies  of  imagination,  he 
had  sung  the  lament  of  Atlantis,  compelled  the 
blue  sepulchre  to  recede,  and  led  a  prosaic  but 
dazzled  world  through  cities  of  such  beauty 
and  splendour,  such  pleasant  gardens  and 
opulent  wilds  as  the  rest  of  Earth  had  never 
dreamed  of.  He  peopled  it  still  with  an 
arrogant  and  wanton  race,  masters  of  the  lore 
and  the  arts  that  had  gone  with  them,  awaiting 
the  great  day  when  the  enchantment  should 
lift  and  the  most  princely  continent  Earth 
has  borne  should  rise  once  more  to  the  surface 
of  the  sea,  lifting  these  jewelled  islands, 
her  mountain  peaks,  high  among  the  clouds. 

It  had  been  Byam  Warner's  first  epic  poem, 
and  although  he  had  won  the  critical  public 
with  his  songs  of  the  Caribbean  Sea  and  of 
Nevis,  the  island  of  his  birth,  it  was  this 
remarkable  achievement,  white-hot  from  first 
to  last  with  poetic  fire,  replete  with  fascinating 
pictures  and  living  tragedy,  that  gave  him  as 
wide  a  popularity  as  any  novelist  of  the  day. 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE  25 

He  had  visited  London  immediately  after,  and, 
in  spite  of  some  good  folk  who  thought  his 
poem  shockingly  immoral,  was  the  lion  of  the 
season,  and  a  favourite  at  court.  But  he 
had  soon  wearied  of  London,  and  although  he 
had  returned  several  times  with  increasing 
fame,  he  had  always  left  as  abruptly,  declaring 
that  he  could  write  nowhere  above  the  equator; 
and,  notwithstanding  revels  where  he  shone 
far  more  brilliantly  than  when  in  society, 
where  indeed  he  was  shy  and  silent,  that  he 
cared  for  nothing  else. 

Little  gossip  had  come  to  Warkworth  Manor 
but  Anne  had  read  "The  Blue  Sepulchre" 
when  she  was  seventeen,  and  after  that  her 
allowance  went  for  his  books.  When  a  new 
volume  appeared  it  was  an  event  in  her  life 
comparable  only  to  marriage  or  birth  in  the 
lives  of  other  women.  She  abandoned  her 
soul  to  this  young  magician  of  Nevis;  her 
imagination,  almost  as  powerful  as  his  own, 
gave  her  his  living  presence  more  bountifully 
than  had  the  real  man,  cursed  with  mor- 
tal disenchantments,  companioned  her.  So 
strong  was  her  power  of  realisation  that  there 
were  hours  when  she  believed  that  her 
thoughts  girdled  the  globe  and  drew  his  own 


into  her  mental  heaven.  In  more  practical 
hours,  when  tramping  the  moor,  or  sailing 
her  boat,  she  dismissed  this  hope  of  intelligent 
response,  inferring,  somewhat  grimly,  that  the 
young,  handsome,  and  popular  poet  had 
excited  ardour  in  many  a  female  breast  besides 
her  own.  Nevertheless,  she  permitted  herself 
to  return  again  and  again  to  the  belief  that 
he  loved  her  and  dreamed  of  her;  and  certainly 
one  of  his  most  poignant  sonnets  had  been 
addressed  to  the  unknown  mate  whom  he 
had  sought  in  vain. 

Nor  had  he  married.  She  had  heard  and 
read  references  to  his  increasing  dissipation, 
caused  by  an  unhappy  love  affair,  but  his 
work,  instead  of  degenerating  with  his  morals, 
showed  increasing  power  and  beauty.  The 
fire  burned  at  times  with  so  intense  a  radiance 
that  it  would  seem  to  have  consumed  his  early 
voluptuousness  while  decimating  neither  his 
human  nor  his  spiritual  passion.  Each  new 
volume  sold  many  editions.  The  critics 
declared  that  his  lyrics  were  the  finest  of  his 
generation,  and  vowed  the  time  could  not  be 
far  off  when  he  would  unite  the  imaginative 
energy  of  his  first  long  poems  with  the  night- 
ingale quality  of  his  later,  and  produce  one 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE  87 

of  the  greatest  poetical  dramas  in  the  language. 
But  the  man  had  been  cast  into  outer  darkness. 
Society  had  dropped  him,  and  the  young 
Queen  would  not  permit  his  name  to  be  men- 
tioned in  her  presence.  That  gentle  spirit, 
the  Countess  of  Blessington,  indifferent  to  the 
world  that  shut  its  door  in  her  own  face,  alone 
received  him  in  what  was  still  the  most  brilliant 
salon  in  England.  But  even  Anne  knew  that 
during  a  recent  visit  to  London,  when  a  few 
faithful  and  distinguished  men,  including 
Count  d'Orsay,  Disraeli,  Barry  Cornwall, 
Monckton  Milnes,  and  Crabb  Robinson, 
had  given  him  a  banquet  at  the  Travellers' 
Club,  he  had  become  so  disgracefully  drunk 
that  when  he  left  England  two  days  later, 
announcing  his  intention  never  to  return,  not 
one  of  those  long  suffering  gentlemen  had 
appeared  at  the  dock  to  bid  him  farewell. 

But  Anne  heard  few  of  these  horrid  stories 
in  detail,  and  her  imagination  made  no  effort 
to  supply  the  lack.  Her  attitude  was  curiously 
indifferent.  She  had  never  seen  his  picture. 
He  dwelt  with  her  in  the  realm  of  fancy, 
a  creation  of  her  own ;  and  in  spite  of  the  teem- 
ing incidents  of  that  mental  life,  her  common 
sense  had  assured  her  long  since  that  they 


28  THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

would  never  meet,  that  with  the  real  Byam 
Warner  she  had  naught  to  do.  Her  father 
had  been  forty-five  when  he  was  taken  off  by 
a  mis-made  gas  in  his  laboratory;  she  had 
expected  to  be  still  his  silent  companion  when 
herself  was  long  past  that  age  —  an  age  for 
caps  and  knitting  needles,  and  memories  laid 
away  in  jars  of  old  rose  leaves. 

It  is  possible  that  had  Mrs.  Nunn  not 
succeeded  in  letting  Warkworth  Manor  she 
would  never  have  uprooted  her  niece,  who, 
face  to  face  with  the  prospect  of  Nevis, 
realised  that  she  wished  for  nothing  so  little 
as  to  meet  Byam  Warner,  realised  that  the 
end  of  dreams  would  be  the  finish  of  the  best 
in  life.  But  circumstances  were  too  strong 
for  Anne,  and  she  found  herself  in  London 
fitting  on  excessively  smart  and  uncomfortable 
gowns,  submitting  to  have  her  side  locks  cut 
short  and  curled  according  to  the  latest  mode, 
and  even  to  wear  a  fillet,  which  scraped  her 
hitherto  untrammelled  brow. 

She  had  little  time  to  think  about  Byam 
Warner,  but  when  the  memory  of  him  short- 
ened her  breath  she  hastily  assured^herself  that 
she  was  unlikely  to  meet  an  outcast  even  on  an 
island,  that  she  should  not  know  him  if  she 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE  29 

did,  and  that  Bath  House,  whose  doors  were 
closed  upon  him,  was  a  world  in  itself.  And 
she  should  see  Nevis,  which  had  been  as 
much  her  home  as  Warkworth  Manor,  see 
those  other  glowing  bits  of  a  vanished  para- 
dise. There  are  certain  people  born  for  the 
tropics,  even  though  bred  within  the  empire 
of  the  midnight  sun,  even  when  accident  has 
given  their  imagination  no  such  impulse 
as  Anne  Percy's  had  received  from  the  works 
of  Byam  Warner.  Mind  and  body  respond 
the  moment  they  enter  that  mysterious  belt 
which  divides  the  moderate  zones,  upon  whose 
threshold  the  spirit  of  worldliness  sinks  inert, 
and  within  whose  charmed  circle  the  principle 
of  life  is  king.  Those  of  the  North  with  the 
call  of  the  tropics  in  their  blood  have  never  a 
moment  of  strangeness;  they  are  content,  at 
home. 

The  pauses  at  the  still  more  southern  islands 
on  the  way  up  from  Barbadoes  had  been  brief, 
but  Anne  had  had  glimpses  of  great  fields  of 
cane,  set  with  the  stately  homes  of  planters, 
the  grace  of  palm-fringed  shores  and  silver 
sands;  the  awful  majesty  of  volcanic  islands, 
torn  and  racked  by  earthquake,  eaten  by  fire, 
sometimes  rising  so  abruptly  from  the  sea  as 


80  THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

to  imply  a  second  half  split  to  its  base  and 
hurled  to  the  depths.  But  although  there  had 
been  much  to  delight  and  awe,  the  wine  in  her 
cup  had  not  risen  to  the  brim  until  she  came 
in  sight  of  Nevis,  whose  perfection  of  form 
and  colour,  added  to  the  interest  her  gifted 
and  unhappy  son  had  inspired,  made  her 
seem  to  eager  romantic  eyes  the  incarnation  of 
all  the  loveliness  of  all  the  tropics.  To-night 
Anne  could  forget  even  Byam  Warner,  who 
indeed  had  never  seemed  so  far  away,  and 
she  only  went  within  when  the  cloud  rolled 
down  Nevis  and  enveloped  her,  as  if  in  rebuke 
of  those  that  would  gaze  upon  her  beauty 
too  long. 


CHAPTER  IV 

A  NNE  started  from  the  sound  unhaunted 
*"•  sleep  of  youth  conscious  that  some  one 
had  entered  her  room  and  stood  by  her  bed. 
It  proved  to  be  a  grinning  barefoot  coloured 
maid  with  coffee,  rolls,  and  a  plate  of  luscious 
fruit.  Anne 's  untuned  ear  could  make  little  of 
the  girl's  voluble  replies  to  her  questions,  for 
the  West  Indian  negroes  used  one  gender  only, 
and  made  a  limited  vocabulary  cover  all 
demands.  But  she  gathered  that  it  was  about 
half-past-five  o'clock,  and  that  the  loud  bell 
ringing  in  the  distance  informed  the  world  of 
Nevis  that  it  was  market  day  in  Charlestown. 
She  had  been  shown  the  baths  the  day  before 
and  ran  down-stairs  to  the  great  stone  tanks, 
enjoyed  her  swim  in  the  sea  water  quite  alone, 
and  returned  to  her  room  happy  and  normal, 
not  a  dream  lingering  in  her  brain.  As  she 
dressed  herself  she  longed  for  one  of  those  old 
frocks  in  which  she  had  taken  comfort  at 
Warkworth,  but  even  had  not  all  her  ancient 
wardrobe  been  diplomatically  presented  by 

M 


Mrs.  Nunn  to  the  servants  of  their  London 
lodging,  she  knew  that  it  was  due  to  her  aunt 
that  she  present  herself  at  breakfast  attired  as 
a  young  lady  of  the  first  fashion.  She  therefore 
accommodated  herself  to  a  white  Indian 
muslin  ruffled  to  the  waist  and  sweeping  the 
ground  all  round.  The  bodice  was  long  and 
tight,  exposing  the  neck,  which  Anne  covered 
with  a  white  silk  scarf.  She  put  on  her  second 
best  bonnet,  trimmed  with  lilac  flowers  instead 
of  feathers,  the  scoop  filled  with  blonde  and 
mull,  and  tied  under  the  chin  with  lilac 
ribbons.  Her  waist,  encircled  by  a  lilac  sash 
of  soft  India  silk  looked  no  more  than  eighteen 
inches  round,  and  she  surveyed  herself  with 
some  complacency,  feeling  even  reconciled 
to  the  curls,  as  they  modified  the  severity  of 
her  brow  and  profile,  bringing  both  into 
closer  harmony  with  her  full  mouth  and 
throat. 

"But  what 's  the  use  ?  "  she  thought,  with  a 
whimsical  sigh.  "I  mean  never  to  marry, 
so  men  cannot  interest  me,  and  it  would  be 
the  very  irony  of  fate  to  make  a  favourable 
impression  on  a  poet  we  wot  of.  So,  it  all 
comes  to  this:  I  look  my  best  to  gratify  the 
vanity  of  my  aunt.  Well,  let  it  pass." 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE  33 

She  drew  on  her  gloves  and  ran  down- 
stairs, meeting  no  one.  As  she  left  the  hotel 
and  stood  for  a  few  moments  on  the  upper 
terrace  she  forgot  the  discomforts  of  fashion. 
The  packet  had  arrived  late  in  the  afternoon, 
there  had  been  too  much  bustle  to  admit  of 
observing  the  island  in  detail,  even  had  the 
hour  been  favourable,  but  this  morning  it 
burst  upon  her  in  all  its  beauty. 

The  mountain,  bordered  with  a  strip  of 
silver  sands  and  trimmed  with  lofty  palms, 
rose  in  melting  curves  to  the  height  of  three 
thousand  feet  and  more,  and  although  the  most 
majestic  of  the  Caribbees,  there  was  nothing 
on  any  part  of  it  to  inspire  either  terror  or 
misgiving.  The  exceeding  grace  of  the  long 
sweeping  curves  was  enhanced  by  silvery 
groves  of  lime  trees  and  fields  of  yellow  cane. 
Green  as  spring  earlier  in  the  winter,  at  this 
season  of  harvest  Nevis  looked  like  a  gold 
mine  turned  wrong  side  out.  The  "Great 
Houses,"  set  in  groves  of  palm  and  cocoanut, 
and  approached  by  avenues  of  tropical  trees 
mixed  with  red  and  white  cedars,  the  spires 
of  churches  rising  from  romantic  nooks,  their 
heavy  tombs  lost  in  a  tangle  of  low  feathery 
palms,  gave  the  human  note  without  which  the 


34  THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

most  resplendent  verdure  must  pall  in  time; 
and  yet  seemed  indestructibly  a  part  of  that 
jewelled  scene.  High  above,  where  cultiva- 
tion ceased,  a  deep  collar  of  evergreen  trees 
encircled  the  cone,  its  harsh  stiff  outlines  in  no 
wise  softened  by  the  white  cloud  hovering 
above  the  summit.  Charlestown  spread  along 
the  shore  of  a  curving  bay,  its  many  fine  build- 
ings and  infinite  number  of  huckster  shops, 
its  stately  houses  and  negro  village  alike 
shaded  by  immense  banana  trees,  the  loftier 
cocoanut,  and  every  variety  of  palm. 

Anne,  as  she  gazed,  concluded  that  if 
choice  were  demanded,  it  must  be  given  to  the 
royal  palm  and  the  cane  fields.  The  former 
rose,  a  splendid  silvery  shaft,  to  a  great  height, 
where  it  spread  out  into  a  mass  of  long  green 
blades  shining  like  metal  in  the  sun.  But 
the  cane  fields !  They  glittered  a  solid  mass 
of  gold  on  all  visible  curves  of  the  mountain. 
When  the  dazzled  eye,  grown  accustomed  to 
the  sight  which  no  cloud  in  the  deep  blue 
tempered,  separated  it  into  parts,  it  was  but 
to  admire  the  more.  The  cane,  nearly  eight 
feet  in  height,  waxed  from  gold  to  copper, 
where  the  long  blade-like  leaves  rose  waving 
from  the  stalk.  From  the  centre  of  the  tip 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE  35 

shot  out  a  silver  wand  supporting  a  plume 
of  white  feathers,  shading  into  lilac.  The 
whole  island,  rising  abruptly  out  of  the  rich 
blue  waters  of  the  sea,  looked  like  a  colossal 
jewel  that  might  once  have  graced  the  diadem 
of  the  buried  continent. 

The  idea  pleased  Anne  Percy  at  all  events, 
and  she  lingered  a  few  moments  half  dazed  by 
the  beauty  about  her  and  wholly  happy.  And 
on  the  terraces  and  in  the  gardens  were  the 
flowers  and  shrubs  of  the  tropics,  whose  per- 
fumes were  as  sweet  as  their  colours  were 
unsurpassed ;  the  flaming  hydrangea,  the  rose- 
shaped  Arabian  jasmine,  the  pink  pluminia, 
the  bright  yellow  acacia,  the  scarlet  trumpet 
flower,  the  purple  and  white  convolvulus,  the 
silvery  white  blossoms  of  the  lime  tree,  framed 
with  dark  green  leaves. 

Anne  shook  herself  out  of  her  dream, 
descended  the  terraces,  and  walked  down  a 
narrow  avenue  of  royal  palms  to  the  town. 
She  could  hear  the  "Oyez!  Oyez!"  of  the 
criers  announcing  the  wares  brought  in  from 
the  country,  and,  eager  for  the  new  picture, 
walked  as  rapidly  as  her  fine  frock  would 
permit.  She  was  obliged  to  hold  up  her  long 
and  voluminous  skirts,  and  her  sleeves  were 


36  THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

so  tight  that  the  effort  cramped  her  arms. 
To  stride  after  her  usual  fashion  was  impos- 
sible, and  she  ambled  along  anathematising 
fashion  and  resolved  to  buy  some  cotton  in  the 
town  and  privately  make  several  short  skirts 
in  which  she  could  enjoy  the  less  frequented 
parts  of  Nevis  while  her  aunt  slept.  Without 
realising  it,  for  nothing  in  her  monotonous 
life  had  touched  her  latent  characteristics, 
she  was  essentially  a  creature  of  action. 
Even  her  day-dreams  had  been  energetic,  and 
if  they  had  filled  her  life  it  was  because  they 
had  the  field  to  themselves.  In  earlier  centu- 
ries she  would  have  defended  one  of  the  castles 
of  her  ancestors  with  as  much  efficiency  and 
spirit  as  any  man  among  them,  and  had  she 
been  born  thirty  years  later  she  would  certainly 
have  entered  one  of  the  careers  open  to 
women,  and  filled  her  life  with  active  accom- 
plishment. But  she  knew  little  of  female 
careers,  save,  to  be  sure,  of  those  dedicated 
to  fashion,  which  did  not  interest  her;  and 
less  of  self -analysis.  But  she  felt  and  lived 
in  the  present  moment  intensely.  For  twenty- 
two  years  she  had  dwelt  in  the  damp  and 
windy  North,  and  now  the  dream  of  those 
years  was  fulfilled  and  she  was  amidst  the 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE  37 

warmth  and  glow  of  the  tropics.  It  was  the 
greatest  happiness  that  life  had  offered  her 
and  she  abandoned  herself  to  it  headlong. 

As  she  entered  the  capital  she  suddenly 
became  aware  that  she  was  holding  her  skirts 
high  over  her  hoop  in  a  most  unladylike 
manner.  She  blushed,  shook  them  down, 
and  assumed  a  carriage  and  gait  which  would 
have  been  approved  by  even  the  fastidious 
Mrs.  Nunn.  But  she  was  no  less  interested 
in  the  animated  scene  about  her.  The  long 
street  winding  from  the  Court  House  to  the 
churchyard  on  the  farther  edge  of  the  town 
was  a  mass  of  moving  colour  and  a  babel  of 
sound.  The  women,  ranging  from  ebony 
through  all  the  various  shades  of  copper  and 
olive  to  that  repulsive  white  where  the  dark 
blood  seems  to  flow  just  beneath  the  skin, 
and  bedecked  in  all  the  violence  of  blues  and 
greens,  reds  and  yellows,  some  in  country 
costume,  their  heads  covered  with  kerchiefs, 
others  in  a  travesty  on  the  prevailing  fashion, 
stood  in  their  shops  or  behind  the  long  double 
row  of  temporary  stalls,  vociferating  at  the 
passers  by  as  they  called  attention  to  fowl, 
meats,  hot  soup,  fruit,  vegetables,  wild  birds, 
fish,  cigars,  sugar  cakes,  castor  oil,  cloth, 


38  THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

handkerchiefs,  and  wood.  Many  of  the  early 
buyers  were  negroes  of  the  better  class,  others 
servants  of  the  white  planters  and  of  Bath 
House,  come  early  to  secure  the  best  bargains. 
Anne  was  solicited  incessantly,  even  her 
skirts  being  pulled,  for  since  emancipation,  four 
years  before,  the  negro  had  lost  his  awe  of 
a  white  skin.  It  was  some  time  before  she 
could  separate  the  gibberish  into  words,  but 
finally  she  made  out:  "Bargain!  Bargain! 
Here 's  yo'  fine  cowf ee !  Here 's  yo'  pickled 
peppers!  Come  see!  Come  see!  Only  come 
see!  Make  you  buy.  Want  any  jelly  cocoa- 
nut  ?  Any  yams  ?  Nice  grenadilla.  Make 
yo' mouth  water.  Lady!  Lady!  Buy  here! 
Very  cheap!  Very  nice!  Real!" 

Anne  paused  before  a  stall  spread  with  cot- 
ton cloth  and  bought  enough  for  several 
skirts,  the  result  of  her  complaisance  being  a 
siege  of  itinerant  vendors  that  nearly  deafened 
her.  The  big  women  were  literally  covered 
with  their  young  ("pic'nees"),  who  clung  to 
their  skirts,  waist,  hips,  bosoms;  and  these 
mites,  with  the  parrot  proclivities  of  their 
years  and  race  added  their  shrill:  "By'm, 
lady,  by'm!" 

The  proprietor  of  the  cloth  volubly  promised 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE  39 

to  deliver  the  purchase  at  Bath  House  and 
Anne  fled  down  the  street  until  she  was  stopped 
by  a  drove  of  sheep  whose  owner  was  crying: 
"Oyez!  Oyez!  Come  to  the  shambles  of 
Mr.  Columbus  Brown.  Nice  fat  lambs  and 
big  fat  sheep.  Very  cheap!  Very  cheap!" 

Anne  retreated  into  a  shop  of  some  depth 
to  avoid  the  dust.  When  the  drove  had 
passed  she  was  rescued  by  Lord  Hunsdon, 
who  lifted  his  broad  panama  without  smiling. 
He  was  a  very  serious  looking  young  man, 
with  round  staring  anxious  blue  eyes  under 
pent  white  brows,  an  ascetic  mouth  and  a 
benevolent  dome.  He  was  immaculate  in 
white  linen,  and  less  pinched  about  the  waist 
than  his  fashionable  contemporaries. 

"I  believe  it  is  not  considered  quite  de 
rigueur  for  young  ladies  and  young  gentlemen 
to  walk  unchaperoned,"  he  said  diffidently; 
"but  in  the  circumstances  I  think  I  may  come 
to  your  relief  and  escort  you  back  to  the  hotel." 

"Not  yet,  please,"  Anne  emerged  and 
walked  rapidly  toward  the  edge  of  the  town. 
"I  cannot  go  back  and  sit  in  the  hotel  till 
half  past  nine.  I  am  accustomed  to  a  long 
walk  before  breakfast." 

"But  Mrs.  Nunn " 


40  THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

"  She  must  get  used  to  my  tramps.  I  should 
fall  ill  if  I  gave  them  up.  Indeed,  she  is  sadly 
aware  that  I  am  no  fine  lady,  and  no  doubt 
will  shortly  give  me  up.  But  if  you  are  afraid 
of  her,  pray  go  back.  I  recall,  she  said  I  was 
not  to  be  escorted " 

"If  you  are  determined  to  go  on  I  shall 
accompany  you,  particularly  as  I  wish  to  talk 
to  you  on  a  subject  of  great  importance. 
Have  I  your  permission?" 

Quite  lacking  in  vanity  or  worldliness,  it 
was  impossible  that  he  should  be  unaware  of 
his  importance  as  a  young,  wealthy,  and 
unmarried  peer,  and  he  shrewdly  suspected 
that  Mrs.  Nunn  would  make  an  exception  in 
his  favour  on  market  day  in  Charlestown. 

Anne,  wondering  what  he  could  have  to 
say  to  her,  led  the  way  past  the  church  to 
the  open  road  that  encircled  the  island.  Then 
she  moderated  her  pace  and  looked  up  at  him 
from  the  deeps  of  her  bonnet.  Her  gaze  was 
cooler  and  more  impersonal  than  he  was 
wont  to  encounter,  but  it  crossed  his  burdened 
mind  that  a  blooming  face  even  if  unfashion- 
ably  sunburnt,  and  a  supple  vigorous  body 
were  somewhat  attractive  after  a  surfeit  of 
dolls  with  their  languid  fine-lady  airs  and 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE  41 

affectation  of  physical  delicacy ;  which  he,  being 
no  fool,  suspected  of  covering  fine  appetites 
and  stubborn  selfishness.  But  while  he  was 
young  enough  to  admire  the  fresh  beauty  of 
his  companion,  it  was  the  strength  and  deci- 
sion, the  subtle  suggestion  of  high-mindedness, 
in  this  young  lady's  aspect,  which  had  led 
him  to  a  resolution  that  he  now  proceeded 
to  arrange  in  words  as  politic  as  might  be. 

"It  may  seem  presumptuous  to  speak  after 
so  short  an  acquaintance " 

"Not  after  your  rescue  last  night.  I  had 
like  to  have  died  of  embarrassment.  I  am 
not  accustomed  to  have  half  a  room  gazing 
at  me." 

"You  will,"  he  said  gallantly.  "But  it 
is  kind  of  you  to  make  it  easier.  This  is  it. 
I  have  been  —  am  —  very  unhappy  about  a 
friend  of  mine  here.  Of  course  you  know 
the  work  of  one,  who,  many  believe,  is  our 
greatest  poet  —  Byam  Warner?" 

Anne  drew  her  breath  in  and  her  eyelashes 
together.  "I  have  read  his  poems,"  she  said 
shortly. 

"  I  see!  Like  many  others  you  cannot  dis- 
sociate the  genius  from  the  man.  Because  a 
fatal  weakness " 


'What  have  I  said,  pray,  that  you  should 
jump  to  such  a  conclusion?"  She  had 
recovered  her  breath  but  not  her  poise.  "No 
one  could  admire  him  more  than  I.  About 
his  private  life  I  know  little  and  care  less. 
He  lives  on  this  island,  does  he  not?" 

;<  We  shall  pass  his  house  presently,  but  God 
knows  if  he  is  in  it." 

"He  is  a  West  Indian,  is  he  not?" 
"A  scion  of  two  of  its  foremost  families, 
whose  distinction  by  no  means  began  with 
their  emigration  to  the  Antilles.  One  of  his 
ancestors,  Sir  Thomas  Warner,  colonised 
most  of  these  islands  for  the  crown  —  in  the 
seventeenth  century.  A  descendant  living 
on  Trinidad,  has  in  his  possession  the  ring 
which  Queen  Elizabeth  gave  to  Essex  —  you 
recall  my  friend's  poem  and  the  magnificent 
invective  put  into  the  frantic  Queen's  mouth 
at  the  bedside  of  Lady  Nottingham?  The 
ring  was  presented  to  Sir  Thomas  by  Charles  I., 
on  the  eve  of  his  first  expedition  to  these 
islands.  The  Byams  are  almost  equally 
notable,  descended  as  they  are  from  the  father  of 
Anne  Boleyn,  Earl  of  Wiltshire  and  Ormond." 
The  spirit  of  British  democracy  still  slept  in 
the  womb  of  the  century,  with  board  schools, 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE  43 

the  telegraph,  and  the  penny  press,  and  the 
aristocrat  frankly  admitted  his  pride  of  birth 
and  demanded  a  corresponding  distinction  in 
his  friends.  "I  hope  I  have  not  bored  you," 
continued  the  young  nobleman  anxiously; 
"But  I  have  given  you  some  idea  of  Warner's 
pedigree  that  you  may  see  for  yourself  that 
the  theory  of  generations  of  gentle  blood  and 
breeding,  combined  with  exceptional  advan- 
tages, sometimes  culminating  in  genius,  finds 
its  illustration  in  him.  Also,  alas!  that  such 
men  are  too  often  the  prey  of  a  highly  wrought 
nervous  system  that  coarser  natures  and 
duller  brains  are  spared.  When  he  was 
younger  —  I  knew  him  at  Cambridge  —  nor, 
indeed  a  few  years  since,  he  had  not  drained 
that  system;  his  youthful  vigour  immediately 
rushing  in  to  resupply  exhausted  conduits. 
But  even  earlier  he  was  always  disposed  to 
drink  more  than  was  good  for  him,  and  when 
a  wretched  woman  made  ducks  and  drakes 
of  his  life  some  four  or  five  years  since,  he 
became  —  well  —  I  shall  not  go  into  details. 
This  is  his  house.  It  has  quite  a  history. 
Alexander  Hamilton,  an  American  statesman, 
was  born  in  it.  Have  you  ever  heard  of  him  ?" 
"No  —  yes,  of  course  I  have  read  Warner's 


44  THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

beautiful  poem  to  his  mother  —  and  —  I 
recall  now  —  when  one  of  the  Hamiltons  of 
Cambuskeith,  a  relative  of  my  mother,  visited 
us  some  years  ago,  he  talked  of  this  Alexander 
Hamilton,  a  cousin  of  his  father,  who  had 
distinguished  himself  in  the  United  States  of 
America." 

Hunsdon  nodded.  "Great  pity  he  did  not 
carry  his  talents  to  England  where  they 
belonged.  But  this  is  the  house  where  his 
parents  lived  when  he  was  born.  It  used  to 
be  surrounded  by  a  high  wall,  but  I  believe 
an  earthquake  flung  that  down  before  my 
friend's  father  bought  the  place.  Warner 
was  also  born  here." 

The  old  house,  a  fine  piece  of  masonry,  was 
built  about  three  sides  of  a  court,  in  the  centre 
of  which  was  an  immense  banana  tree  whose 
lower  branches,  as  close  as  a  thatched  roof, 
curved  but  a  few  feet  above  the  ground. 
The  front  wall  contained  a  wide  gateway, 
which  was  flanked  by  two  royal  palms  quite 
a  hundred  feet  in  height.  The  large  unkempt 
garden  at  the  side  looked  like  a  jungle  in  the 
hills,  but  was  rich  in  colour  and  perfume. 
The  gates  were  open  and  they  could  see  the 
slatternly  negro  servants  moving  languidly 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE  45 

about  the  rooms  on  the  ground  floor,  while  two 
slept  under  the  banana  tree.  A  gallery 
traversed  the  second  story,  its  pillars  covered 
with  dusty  vines.  All  of  the  rooms  of  this  story 
evidently  opened  upon  the  gallery,  but  every 
door  was  closed.  The  general  air  of  neglect 
and  decay  was  more  pathetic  to  Anne,  accus- 
tomed to  exemplary  housekeeping,  than  any- 
thing she  had  yet  heard  of  the  poet.  He  was 
uncomfortable  and  ill-cared  for,  no  doubt  of 
that.  The  humming  birds  were  darting  about 
like  living  bits  of  enamel  set  with  jewels. 
The  stately  palms  glittered  like  burnished 
metal.  Before  the  house,  on  the  deep  blue 
waters  of  the  bay,  was  a  flotilla  of  white-sailed 
fishing-boats,  and  opposite  was  the  green  and 
gold  mass  of  St.  Kitts,  an  isolated  mountain 
chain  rising  as  mysteriously  from  the  deep  as 
the  solitary  cone  of  Nevis.  She  could  con- 
ceive of  no  more  inspiring  spot  for  a  poet, 
but  she  sighed  again  as  she  thought  of  the 
slatterns  that  miscared  for  him. 

Lord  Hunsdon  echoed  her  sigh  as  they 
walked  on.  "Even  here  he  disappears  for 
days  at  a  time,"  he  resumed.  "Of  course  he 
does  not  drink  steadily.  No  man  could  do 
that  in  the  tropics  and  live.  But  spirits  make 


46  THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

a  madman  of  him,  and  even  when  sober  he 
now  shuns  the  vicinity  of  respectable  people, 
knowing  that  they  regard  him  as  a  pariah.  Of 
course  his  associates  —  well,  I  cannot  go  into 
particulars.  For  a  time  I  did  not  believe  these 
stories,  for  each  year  brought  a  volume  from 
his  pen,  which  showed  a  steady  increase  of 
power,  and  a  divine  sense  of  beauty.  Besides 
I  have  been  much  absorbed  these  last  few 
years.  There  seemed  no  loosening  the  hold 
of  the  Whigs  upon  the  destinies  of  England 
and  it  was  every  patriot's  duty  to  work  with 
all  his  strength.  You  followed,  of  course, 
the  tremendous  battle  that  ended  in  last 
year's  victory.  I  was  almost  worn  out  with 
the  struggle,  and  when  I  found  that  these 
stories  about  Warner  were  persistent  I  came 
out  to  investigate  for  myself.  Alas!  I  had 
not  heard  the  half.  I  spent  three  months  with 
him  in  that  house.  I  used  every  argument, 
every  more  subtle  method  I  could  command, 
to  bring  him  to  see  the  folly  and  the  wickedness 
of  his  course.  I  might  as  well  have  addressed 
the  hurricane.  He  did  not  even  hate  life. 
He  was  merely  sick  of  it.  He  was  happy  only 
when  at  work  upon  a  new  poem  —  intoxi- 
cated, of  course.  When  it  was  over  he  went 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE  47 

upon  a  horrible  bout  and  then  sank  into  an 
apathy  from  which  no  art  of  mine  could  rouse 
him;  although  I  am  bound  to  add,  in  justice 
to  one  of  the  gentlest  and  most  courteous 
souls  I  have  ever  known,  his  civility  as  a  host 
never  deserted  him.  I  was,  alas!  obliged  to 
return  to  England  with  nothing  accomplished, 
but  I  have  come  this  year  with  quite  another 
plan.  Will  you  listen  to  it,  Miss  Percy?*' 

"I  am  vastly  interested."  But  she  had 
little  hope,  and  could  well  conceive  that 
three  months  of  this  good  young  man  might 
have  confirmed  the  poet  in  his  desire  for 
oblivion. 

"I  persuaded  my  mother  to  come  with  me, 
although  without  avowing  my  object.  I 
merely  expatiated  upon  the  beauty  and 
salubrity  of  Nevis,  and  the  elegant  comforts 
of  Bath  House.  Women  often  demand  much 
subtlety  in  the  handling.  We  arrived  by  the 
packet  that  preceded  yours  —  two  weeks  ago, 
but  I  only  yesterday  broached  my  plan  to  her ; 
she  stood  the  trip  so  ill,  and  then  seemed  to 
find  so  much  delight  in  long  gossips  with  her 
old  friends  —  a  luxury  denied  her  at  home, 
where  politics  and  society  absorb  her.  But 
yesterday  I  had  a  talk  with  her,  and  this  is 


48  THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

my  plan  —  that  she  should  persuade  herself 
and  a  number  of  the  other  ladies  that  it  is  their 
duty  to  restore  to  Warner  his  lost  self-respect. 
For  that  I  believe  to  be  the  root  of  the  trouble, 
not  any  real  inclination  to  dissipation  and  low 
society.  This  restoration  can  be  accomplished 
only  by  making  him  believe  that  people  of 
the  highest  respectability  and  fashion  desire, 
nay  demand,  his  company.  As  my  mother 
knew  him  well  in  England  it  will  be  quite 
natural  she  should  write  him  a  note  asking 
him  to  take  a  dish  of  tea  with  her  and  compli- 
menting his  latest  volume  —  I  brought  it 
with  me.  If  he  hesitates,  as  he  well  may 
do,  she  can  call  upon  him  with  me,  and,  while 
ignoring  the  cause,  vow  he  has  been  a  recluse 
long  enough,  and  that  the  ladies  of  Bath  House 
are  determined  to  have  much  of  him.  Such 
a  course  must  succeed,  for,  naturally  the  most 
refined  of  men,  he  must  long  bitterly,  when 
himself,  for  the  society  of  his  own  kind. 
Then,  when  the  ice  is  broken,  we  will  ask 
others  to  meet  him  - 

"And  has  your  mother  consented?'* 
"Practically.   I  have  no  doubt  that  she  will. 
She  is  a  woman  who  needs  a  cause  for  her 
energies,   and  she  never  had  a  better  one, 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE  49 

not  even  the  restoration  of  the  Tories  and 
Sir  Robert." 

"And  you  wish  me  to  meet  him  ?" 

"Particularly,  dear  Miss  Percy.  I  feel  sure 
he  would  not  care  for  any  of  these  other  young 
ladies.  I  happen  to  know  what  he  thinks 
of  young  ladies.  But  you  —  you  are  so  dif- 
ferent! I  do  not  wish  to  be  a  flatterer,  like 
so  many  of  my  shallow  kind,  but  I  am  sure 
that  he  would  appreciate  the  privilege  of 
knowing  you,  would  feel  at  his  ease  with  you. 
But  of  course  it  all  depends  upon  Mrs.  Nunn. 
She  may  disapprove  of  your  meeting  one  with 
so  bad  a  name." 

"Oh,  she  will  follow  Lady  Hunsdon's  cue, 
I  fancy,"  said  Anne,  repressing  a  smile. 
"  They  all  do,  do  they  not,  even  here  ?  I  hope 
the  poet  does  not  wear  Hyperion  locks  and  a 
velvet  smoking  jacket. " 

"He  used  to  wear  his  hair,  and  dress,  like 
any  ordinary  gentleman.  But  when  I  was  here 
last  year  his  wardrobe  was  in  a  shocking 
condition."  The  immaculate  Englishman 
sighed  deeply.  "He  is  totally  demoralised. 
Fortunately  we  are  about  the  same  figure. 
If  all  his  clothes  are  gone  to  seed  I  can  supply 
him  till  he  can  get  a  box  out  from  England. 


50  THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

For  the  matter  of  that  there  is  a  tailor  here 
who  makes  admirable  linen  suits,  and  evening 
clothes  not  badly  - 

"Is  he  very  fascinating?"  asked  Anne 
ingenuously.  She  had  long  since  recovered 
her  poise.  "My  aunt  has  set  her  mind  upon 
a  high  and  mighty  marriage  for  me,  and  might 
apprehend  — 

"Fascinating!  Apprehend!  Great  heavens! 
He  was  handsome  once,  a  beau  garcon, 
—  no  doubt  fascinating  enough.  But  now! 
He  is  a  ruin.  No  woman  would  look  at  him 
save  in  pity.  But  you  must  not  think  of  that. 
It  is  his  soul  I  would  save  —  that  I  would  have 
you  help  me  to  save" — with  a  glance  into  the 
glowing  eyes  which  he  thought  remarkably 
like  the  blue  of  the  Caribbean  sea,  and 
eloquent  of  fearless  youth.  "His  soul,  Miss 
Percy.  I  cannot,  will  not,  let  that  perish  for 
want  of  enterprise." 

"Nor  his  fountain  of  song  dry  up,"  replied 
Anne,  whose  practical  side  was  uppermost. 
"He  should  write,  and  better  and  better^ 
for  twenty  years  to  come." 

"I  should  not  care  if  he  never  wrote  another 
line.  I  see  a  friend  with  the  most  beautiful 
nature  I  have  ever  known  —  he  has  the  essence 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE  51 

of  the  old  saints  and  martyrs  in  him  —  going 
to  ruin,  wrecking  all  hopes  of  happiness, 
mortal  and  immortal.  I  must  save  him! 
I  must  save  him!" 

Anne  glanced  at  the  flushed  face  of  her 
companion.  His  expression  was  almost  fanati- 
cal, but  as  he  turned  suddenly  and  she  met 
the  intense  little  blue  eyes,  something  flashed 
in  them  in  no  wise  resembling  fanaticism. 
She  stiffened  and  replied  coldly: 

'You  can  count  on  me,  of  course.  How 
could  I  refuse  ?  But  I  have  sensations  that 
assure  me  it  is  close  upon  the  breakfast  hour. 
Shall  we  return?" 


CHAPTER  V 

A  FTER  breakfast,  Mrs.  Nunn,  pretending 
•**•  to  saunter  through  the  saloon  and 
morning  rooms  with  Anne,  introduced  her 
naturally  to  a  number  of  young  people,  and 
finally  left  her  with  a  group,  returning  to 
the  more  congenial  society  of  Lady  Hunsdon 
and  Lady  Constance  Mortlake. 

Anne,  although  shy  and  nervous,  listened 
with  much  interest  to  the  conversation  of 
these  young  ladies  so  near  her  own  age,  while 
taking  little  part  in  it.  The  long  windows 
opened  upon  an  orchard  of  cocoanuts  and 
bananas,  grenadillas  and  shaddocks,  oranges 
and  pineapples,  but  in  spite  of  the  cool  refresh- 
ing air,  many  of  the  girls  were  frankly  loung- 
ing, as  became  the  tropics,  others  were  turning 
the  leaves  of  the  Journal  des  Modes,  dabbling 
in  water  colours,  pensively  frowning  at  an 
embroidery  frame.  Of  the  three  young  men 
present  one  was  absorbed  in  the  Racing 
Calendar,  another  was  making  himself  gen- 
erally agreeable,  offering  to  read  aloud  or  hold 

52 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE  53 

wool,  and  a  third  was  flirting  in  a  corner  with 
the  sparkling  Miss  Bargarny. 

All  acknowledged  Mrs.  Nunn's  introduc- 
tions with  much  propriety  and  little  cordiality, 
for  Anne  was  far  too  alert  and  robust,  and 
uncompromising  of  eye,  to  suit  their  modish 
taste.  Nevertheless  they  asked  her  politely 
what  she  thought  of  Nevis,  and  seemed  satis- 
fied with  her  purposely  conventional  replies. 
Then  the  conversation  drifted  naturally  to 
the  light  and  dainty  accomplishments  for 
which  all  save  herself  professed  a  fondness; 
from  thence  to  literature,  where  much  languid 
admiration  was  expressed  of  Disraeli's  "  Vene- 
tia,"  a  "performance  of  real  elegance,"  and  the 
latest  achievement  of  the  exciting  Mr.  G.  P.  R. 
James.  Dickens  wrote  about  people  one 
really  never  had  heard  of,  but  Bulwer,  of 
course,  was  one  of  themselves  and  the  equal 
of  Scott.  In  poetry  the  palm  was  tossed 
between  Mrs.  Hemans  and  L.  E.  L.  on  the  one 
hand  and  that  delightful  impossible  American, 
Mr.  Willis,  and  Barry  Cornwall  on  the  other. 
Young  Tennyson  received  a  few  words  of 
praise.  When  the  talk  naturally  swung  to 
Byam  Warner  Anne  eagerly  attended.  Had 
he  made  a  deep  personal  impression  upon  any 


54  THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

of  these  essentially  feminine  hearts  ?  But 
the  criticism  of  his  poems  was  as  languid, 
affected,  and  undiscriminating  as  that  of 
other  work  they  had  pretended  to  discuss. 
They  admired  him,  oh  vastly!  He  was 
amazing,  a  genius  of  the  first  water,  the  legiti- 
mate successor  of  Byron  and  Shelley,  to  say 
nothing  of  Keats ;  he  might  easily  surpass  them 
all  in  a  few  years.  In  short  they  rehearsed 
all  the  stock  phrases  which  the  critics  had  set 
in  motion  years  ago  and  which  had  been 
drifting  about  ever  since  for  the  use  of  those 
unequal  to  the  exertion  of  making  their  own 
opinions,  or  afraid  of  not  thinking  with  the 
elect.  Had  Warner  been  falsely  appraised  by 
the  higher  powers  their  phrases  wrould  have 
been  nourished  as  faithfully;  and  Anne,  with  a 
movement  of  irrepressible  impatience,  rose, 
murmured  an  excuse,  and  joined  her  aunt. 
Lady  Hunsdon  was  a  short,  thin,  trimly 
made  woman,  with  small,  hard,  aquiline  feat- 
ures, piercing  eyes,  and  a  mien  of  so  much 
graciousness  that  had  she  been  a  shade  less 
well-bred  she  would  have  been  patronising. 
She  looked  younger  than  her  years  in  spite 
of  her  little  cap  and  the  sedateness  of  attire 
then  common  to  women  past  their  youth. 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE  55 

Lady  Constance  Mortlake  had  the  high  bust 
and  stomach  of  advanced  years;  her  flabby 
cheeks  were  streaked  with  good  living.  Her 
expression  was  shrewd  and  humorous,  how- 
ever, and  her  eyes  were  kinder  than  her 
tongue.  Mrs.  Nunn  rose  with  vast  ceremony 
and  presented  her  niece  to  these  two  august 
dames,  and  as  Anne  courtesied,  Lady  Huns- 
don  said,  smiling,  but  with  a  penetrating 
glance  at  the  newcomer. 

"My  son  tells  me  that  he  has  acquainted 
you  with  our  little  plan  to  reform  the  poet 

"Our?"  interrupted  Lady  Constance. 
"None  of  mine.  I  sit  and  look  on  — as  at 
any  other  doubtful  experiment.  I  have  no 
faith  in  the  powers  of  a  parcel  of  old  women 
to  rival  the  seductions  of  brandy  and  Canary, 
Madeira  and  rum." 

"Parcel  of  old  women!  I  shall  ask  the 
prettiest  of  the  girls  to  hear  him  read  his  poems 
in  my  sitting-room." 

"Even  if  their  mammas  dare  not  refuse  you, 
I  doubt  if  the  girls  brave  the  wrath  of  their 
gallants,  who  would  never  countenance  their 
meeting  such  a  reprobate  as  Byam  War- 
ner  " 

"You  forget  the  despotism  of  curiosity." 


56  THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

"Well,  they  might  gratify  that  by  meeting 
him  once,  but  they  will  sound  the  beaux  first. 
What  do  you  suppose  they  come  here  for? 
Much  they  care  for  the  beauty  of  the  tropics 
and  sulphur  baths.  The  tropics  are  wondrous 
fine  for  making  idle  young  gentlemen  come 
to  the  point,  and  there  is  n't  a  girl  in  Bath 
House  who  is  n't  on  the  catch.  Those  that 
have  fortunes  want  more,  and  most  of  them 
have  too  many  brothers  to  think  of  marrying 
for  love.  Their  genius  for  matrimony  has 
made  half  the  fame  of  Nevis,  for  they  make 
Bath  House  so  agreeable  a  place  to  run  to 
from  the  fogs  of  London  that  more  eligibles 
flock  here  every  year.  There  is  n't  a  dis- 
interested girl  in  Bath  House  unless  it  be 
Mary  Denbigh,  who  has  two  thousand  a  year, 
has  been  disappointed  in  love,  and  is  twenty- 
nine  and  six  months."  She  turned  sharply 
to  Anne,  and  demanded: 

"Have  you  come  here  after  a  husband?" 

"If  you  will  ask  my  aunt  I  fancy  she  will 
reply  in  the  affirmative,"  said  Anne,  mis- 
chievously. 

Mrs.  Nunn  coloured,  and  the  others  looked 
somewhat  taken  aback. 

"That  was  not  a  very  lady-like  speech," 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE  57 

said  Mrs.  Nunn  severely.  "Moreover,"  with 
great  dignity,  "I  have  found  your  society  so 
agreeable,  my  dear,  that  I  hope  to  enjoy  it 
for  several  years  to  come." 

Anne,  quick  in  response,  felt  repentant  and 
touched,  but  Lady  Constance  remarked  drily: 

"Prepare  yourself  for  the  worst,  my  dear 
Emily.  I  '11  wager  you  this  purse  I'm  netting 
that  Miss  Percy  will  have  the  first  proposal  of 
the  season.  She  may  differ  from  the  prevail- 
ing mode  in  young  ladies, but  she  was  fashioned 
to  be  the  mother  of  fine  healthy  children ;  and 
young  men,  who  are  human  and  normal  au 
fond,  whatever  their  ridiculous  affectations, 
will  not  be  long  in  responding,  whether  they 
know  what  is  the  matter  with  them  or  not." 

Anne  blushed  at  this  plain  speaking,  and 
Mrs.  Nunn  bridled.  "I  wish  you  would 
remember  that  young  girls  - 

*  You  told  me  yourself  that  she  was  two-and- 
twenty.  She  ought  to  have  three  babies  by 
this  time.  It  is  a  shocking  age  for  an  unmar- 
ried female.  You  have  not  made  up  your 
mind  to  be  an  old  maid,  I  suppose?"  she 
queried,  pushing  up  her  spectacles  and 
dropping  her  netting.  "If  so,  I'll  turn 
matchmaker  myself.  I  should  succeed  far 


58  THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

better  than  Emily  Nunn,  for  I  have  married 
off  five  nieces  of  my  own.  Now  don't  say 
that  you  have.  You  look  as  if  it  were  on  the 
tip  of  your  tongue.  All  girls  say  it  when  there 
is  no  man  in  sight.  I  shall  hate  you  if  you  are 
not  as  little  commonplace  as  you  look." 

Anne  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  said 
nothing,  while  Lady  Hunsdon  remarked  with 
her  peremptory  smile  (this  was  one  of  a  well 
known  set):  "We  have  wandered  far  from 
the  subject  of  Mr.  Warner.  Not  so  far  either, 
for  my  son  tells  me,  Miss  Percy,  that  you  have 
kindly  consented  to  meet  him  —  to  help  us, 
in  fact.  I  hope  you  have  no  objections  to 
bring  forward,  Emily.  I  am  very  much  set 
upon  this  matter  of  reclaiming  the  poet.  And 
as  I  can  see  that  Miss  Percy  has  independence 
of  character,  and  as  I  feel  sure  that  she  has 
not  come  to  Nevis  on  the  catch,  she  can  be  of 
the  greatest  possible  assistance  to  me.  What 
Constance  says  of  the  other  young  ladies  is 
only  too  true.  They  will  pretend  to  comply, 
but  gracefully  evade  any  responsibility.  I 
can  count  upon  none  of  them  except  Mary 
Denbigh,  and  she  is  rather  passeey  poor 
thing." 

"Passee?"  cried  Lady  Constance.   "At  thirty? 


59 


What  do  you  expect  ?  She  looks  like  an  ele- 
giac figure  weeping  on  a  tombstone.  I  can't 
stand  the  sight  of  her.  And  it's  all  kept  up 
to  make  herself  interesting.  Edwin  Hay  has 
been  dead  eleven  years  — 

"  Never  mind  poor  Mary.  We  all  know 
she  is  your  pet  abomination " 

"She  gives  me  a  cramp  in  my  spleen." 

"Well,  to  return  to  Mr.  Warner.  Will  you 
all  meet  him  when  I  ask  him  to  my  sitting- 
room  up-stairs  ?  Will  you  spread  the  news 
of  his  coming  among  the  other  guests  ?  Hint 
that  he  has  reformed  ?  Excite  in  them  a 
desire  to  meet  the  great  man?" 

She  did  not  speak  in  a  tone  of  appeal,  and 
there  was  a  mounting  fire  in  her  eye. 

Lady  Constance  shrugged  her  shoulders. 
'You  mean  that  you  will  cut  us  if  we  don't. 
I  never  quarrel  in  the  tropics.  Besides,  I 
have  buried  too  many  of  my  old  friends!  I 
don't  approve,  but  I  shall  be  interested,  and 
my  morals  are  as  pure  and  solid  as  my  new 
teeth.  If  you  can  marry  him  to  Mary  Den- 
bigh and  leave  her  on  the  island 

"And  you,  Emily?" 

None  had  had  more  experience  in  yielding 
gracefully  to  social  tyrants  than  Mrs.  Nunn. 


60  THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

She  thought  Maria  Hunsdon  mad  to  take  up 
with  a  drunken  poet,  and  could  only  be  thank- 
ful that  her  charge  was  a  sensible,  common- 
place girl  with  no  romantic  notions  in  her 
head.  "I  never  think  in  the  tropics,  my 
dear  Maria,  and  now  that  you  are  here  to 
think  for  me,  and  provide  a  little  variety,  so 
much  the  better.  What  is  your  programme  ?" 

"To  ask  him  first  for  tea  in  my  sitting- 
room,  then  for  dinner;  then  to  organise  pic- 
nics, and  take  him  with  us  on  excursions. 
I  shall  frequently  pick  him  up  when  I  drive — 
in  short  before  a  fortnight  has  passed  he  will 
be  a  respectable  member  of  society,  and 
accepted  as  a  matter  of  course." 

"And  what  if  he  gets  drunk?" 

"That  is  what  I  purpose  he  shall  not  do. 
As  soon  as  I  know  him  well  enough  I  shall 
talk  to  him  like  a  mother." 

"Better  let  Miss  Percy  talk  to  him  like  a 
sister.  Well,  regulate  the  universe  to  suit 
yourself.  I  hope  you  will  not  forget  to  order 
Nevis  to  have  no  earthquakes  this  winter, 
particularly  while  we  are  cooking  our  gouty 
old  limbs  in  the  hot  springs.  By  the  way, 
whom  have  you  decreed  James  shall  marry?" 

"I  should  not  think  of  interfering  in  such 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE  61 

a  matter."  Lady  Hunsdon  spoke  with  her 
usual  bland  emphasis,  but  darted  a  keen  glance 
at  Anne.  It  was  not  disapproving,  for  Miss 
Percy's  descent  was  long,  she  liked  the 
splendid  vitality  of  the  girl,  and  Hunsdon 
had  riches  of  his  own.  But,  far  cleverer  than 
Mrs.  Nunn,  she  suspected  depths  which  might 
have  little  in  common  with  her  son,  and  a  will 
which  might  make  a  mother-in-law  hate  her. 
Lady  Hunsdon  loved  peace,  and  wondered 
that  anyone  should  question  her  rigid  rules 
for  enforcing  it.  But  of  Anne  as  a  valuable 
coadjutor  in  the  present  instance  there  could 
be  no  doubt,  and,  to  do  her  justice,  she 
anticipated  no  danger  in  the  meeting  of  a  fine 
girl,  full  of  eager  interest  in  life,  and  the 
demoralised  being  her  son  so  pathetically 
described.  She  was  quite  sincere  in  her 
desire  to  lift  the  gifted  young  man  from  his 
moral  quagmire,  but  this  new  opportunity 
to  exercise  her  power,  almost  moribund  since 
her  party  was  no  longer  in  Opposition,  was  a 
stronger  motive  still. 

When  Anne  was  alone  in  her  room  she  sat 
down  and  stared  through  the  half-closed 
jalousies  until  the  luncheon  bell  rang  at  two 
o'clock,  forgetting  to  change  her  frock.  But 


62  THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

she  could  make  little  of  the  ferment  in  her 
mind,  except  that  her  mental  companion, 
that  arbitrary  creation  she  had  called  Byam 
Warner,  was  gone  forever.  Even  did  she 
return  to  her  northern  home  and  dwell  alone, 
his  image  would  never  return.  She  could 
not  even  now  recall  the  lineaments  of  that 
immortal  lover.  The  life  of  the  imagination 
was  past.  Realities  multiplied;  no  doubt 
she  was  converging  swiftly  upon  one  so  hide- 
ous as  to  make  her  wish  she  had  never  been 
born.  Any  day  she  might  be  formally  intro- 
duced over  a  dish  of  tea  to  a  degraded,  broken 
creature  whom  all  the  world  despised  as  a 
man,  and  who  she  would  be  forced  to  remind 
herself  was  the  author  of  the  poems  of  Byam 
Warner.  Byron,  at  least,  had  never  been  a 
common  drunkard.  Picturesque  in  even  his 
dissipations,  he  had  been  a  superb  romantic 
figure  to  the  last.  But  this  man!  She  could 
hear  the  struggle  and  rattle  of  romance  as  it 
died  within  her.  Oh,  that  she  had  never  seen 
Nevis,  that  her  father  had  lived,  that  she 

could  have  gone  on !    Then  a  peremptory 

thought  asserted  itself.  The  time  was  come 
for  her  to  live.  To  dream  for  twenty-two 
years  was  enough.  She  must  take  up  her 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE  63 

part  in  life,  grasp  its  realities,  help  others 
if  she  could.  She  could  not  love  this  poor 
outcast,  but  were  she  offered  a  share  in  his 
redemption  she  should  embrace  the  circum- 
stance as  a  sacred  duty. 

In  time,  perhaps,  she  might  even  marry. 
That  dreadful  old  woman  was  right,  no  doubt, 
it  was  her  manifest  destiny.  Certainly  she 
should  like  to  have  children  and  a  fine  estab- 
lishment of  her  own.  Lord  Hunsdon  was 
unacceptable,  but  doubtless  a  prepossessing 
suitor  would  arrive  before  long,  and  when 
he  did  she  would  marry  him  gladly  and  live 
rationally  and  dream  no  more.  And  when 
she  reached  this  decision  she  wept,  and  could 
not  go  down  to  luncheon;  but  she  did  not 
retire  from  the  mental  step  she  had  taken. 


CHAPTER  VI 

TIER  mind  had  time  to  recover  its  balance. 
It  was  a  fortnight  and  more  before  she 
met  Byam  Warner.  Lady  Hunsdon,  to  her 
secret  wrath  and  amazement,  met  defeat  with 
the  poet  himself.  He  replied  politely  to  her 
ladyship's  flattering  notes,  but  only  to  remind 
her  that  he  was  very  busy,  that  he  had  been 
a  recluse  for  some  years,  that  he  was  too 
much  out  of  health  to  be  fit  for  the  society 
of  ladies.  The  estimable  Hunsdon,  after  one 
fruitless  interview,  invariably  found  the  poet 
from  home  when  he  called.  "The  massa"  was 
up  in  the  hills.  He  was  on  St.  Kitts.  He  was 
visiting  relatives  on  Antigua.  Had  he  been 
in  London  he  could  not  more  successfully 
have  protected  himself.  Lord  Hunsdon 
was  a  man  of  stubborn  purpose,  but  he 
could  not  search  the  closed  rooms  along  the 
gallery. 

But  the  poet's  indifference  to  social  patron- 
age at  least  accomplished  one  of  the  objects 
upon  which  Lady  Hunsdon  had  set  her  heart. 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE  65 

The  guests  of  Bath  House,  vaguely  curious,  or 
properly  scandalised,  at  the  first,  soon  became 
quite  feverish  to  meet  the  distinguished  friend 
of  Lord  Hunsdon.  So  rapidly  does  a  fashion, 
a  fad,  leap  from  bulb  to  blossom  in  idle  minds, 
that  before  a  fortnight  was  out  even  the  young 
men  were  anxious  to  extend  the  hand  of  good 
fellowship,  while  as  for  the  young  ladies, 
they  dreamed  of  placing  his  reformation  to 
their  own  private  account,  learned  his  less 
subtle  poems  by  heart,  and  began  to  write 
him  anonymous  notes. 

Meanwhile,  Anne,  hoping  that  his  purpose 
would  prove  of  a  consistency  with  his  habits, 
and  determined  to  dismiss  him  from  her 
thoughts,  found  sufficient  pleasure  and  dis- 
traction in  her  daily  life.  She  made  her  short 
skirts  —  several  hemmed  strips  gathered  into 
a  belt !  —  and  walked  about  the  island  in  the 
early  morning.  The  negroes  singing  in  the 
golden  cane  fields,  the  women  walking  along 
the  white  road  with  their  swinging  hips, 
immense  baskets  poised  on  their  heads, 
pic'nees  trotting  behind,  or  clinging  to  their 
flanks,  the  lonely  odorous,  silent  jungles  in 
the  high  recesses,  the  cold  fringe  of  forest 
close  to  the  lost  crater,  the  house  in  which 


66  THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

Nelson  courted  and  married  his  bride  and 
the  church  in  which  the  marriage  certificate 
is  still  kept;  she  visited  them  all  and  alone. 
In  the  afternoon  she  drove  with  her  aunt,  their 
phaeton  one  of  a  gay  procession,  stopping 
sometimes  at  one  of  the  Great  Houses,  where 
she  was  taken  by  the  young  people  out  to  the 
mill  to  see  the  grinding  and  partake  of  "sling;" 
home  in  the  cool  of  the  evening  to  dress  for 
the  long  dinner  and  brilliant  evening.  She 
would  not  dance,  but  she  made  several  friends 
among  the  young  men,  notably  that  accomp- 
lished lady-killer  and  arbiter  elegantiarum, 
Mr.  Abergenny,  so  prosilient  in  the  London  of 
his  day;  and  found  herself  in  a  fair  way  to 
be  disliked  thoroughly  by  all  the  other  young 
women  save  Lady  Mary  Denbigh;  who, 
somewhat  to  her  embarrassment,  showed  a 
distinct  preference  for  her  society,  particularly 
when  Lord  Hunsdon  was  in  attendance.  The 
men  she  liked  better  than  she  had  believed 
possible,  estimating  them  by  their  suspiciously 
small  waists,  their  pinched  feet,  and  hair  so 
carefully  curled  and  puffed  out  at  the  side; 
but  although  Lord  Hunsdon's  attentions  were 
now  unmistakable,  she  liked  him  none  the 
better  that  she  esteemed  him  the  more,  and 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE  67 

was  glad  of  the  refuge  the  admiration  of  the 
other  men  afforded  her. 

And  then,  without  any  preliminary  sign  of 
capitulation,  Byam  Warner  wrote  to  Lady 
Hunsdon  announcing  that  he  now  felt  suf- 
ficiently recovered  to  pay  his  devoirs  to  one 
who  had  been  so  kind,  apologised  for  any 
apparent  discourtesy,  and  asked  permission 
to  drink  a  dish  of  tea  with  her  on  the  following 
evening. 

Lady  Hunsdon  was  quite  carried  out  of 
herself  by  this  victory,  for  there  was  a  Lady 
Toppington  at  Bath  House,  whose  husband 
was  in  the  present  cabinet  and  a  close  friend 
of  Peel.  She  had  given  the  finest  ball 
of  the  season  to  signalise  the  return  of  the 
Tories  to  power,  and  would  have  taken 
quick  possession  of  the  social  reins  had  Lady 
Hunsdon  laid  them  down  for  a  moment. 
Politics  enjoyed  a  rest  on  Nevis,  but  other 
interests  loomed  large  in  proportion,  and  the 
apparent  defeat  of  the  hitherto  invulnerable 
leader  of  ton  excited  both  joy  and  hope  in  the 
breast  of  Lady  Toppington  and  her  little 
court.  Now  did  Lady  Hunsdon  sweep  rivals 
aside  with  her  flexible  eyebrows,  and  on  the 
evening  when  she  was  able  to  announce  her 


68  THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

triumph,  she  was  besieged  in  her  stately  chair, 
not  unlike  a  throne. 

But  she  was  deaf  to  hints  and  bolder  hopes. 
She  would  not  thrust  a  shy  young  man,  long 
a  hermit,  into  a  miscellaneous  company  when 
he  had  come  merely  to  drink,  tea  with  herself 
and  son  and  a  few  intimate  friends.  Later, 
of  course,  they  should  all  meet  him,  but  they 
must  possess  their  souls  in  patience.  To  this 
dictum  they  submitted  as  gracefully  as  possible, 
but  they  were  not  so  much  in  awe  of  Lady 
Hunsdon  as  to  forbear  to  peep  from  windows 
and  sequestered  nooks  on  the  following 
evening  at  nine  o'clock,  when  Byam  Warner 
emerged  from  the  palm  avenue,  ran  hurriedly 
up  the  long  flights  of  steps  between  the  ter- 
races, and,  escorted  by  Lord  Hunsdon,  who 
met  him  at  the  door,  up  to  the  suite  of  his 
hostess. 

Anne  was  standing  in  the  deep  embrasure 
of  the  window  when  he  entered  the  sitting- 
room,  where  she,  in  common  with  Lady 
Constance  Mortlake,  Lady  Mary  Denbigh, 
Mrs.  Nunn,  and  Miss  Bargarny,  who  was  a 
favourite  of  Lady  Hunsdon  and  would  take 
no  denial,  had  been  bidden  to  do  honour 
to  the  poet.  She  heard  Lady  Hunsdon's 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE  69 

dulcet  icy  tones  greet  him  and  present  him 
to  her  guests,  the  ceremonious  responses  of 
the  ladies  —  but  not  a  syllable  from  Warner  — 
before  she  steeled  herself  to  turn  and  walk 
forward.  But  the  ordeal  she  had  anticipated 
was  still  to  face.  Warner  did  not  raise  his 
eyes  as  her  name  was  pronounced.  He  merely 
bowed  mechanically  and  had  the  appearance 
of  not  having  removed  his  gaze  from  the  floor 
since  he  entered  the  room.  He  was  deathly 
pale,  and  his  lips  were  closely  pressed  as  if 
to  preserve  their  firmness.  Anne,  emboldened 
by  a  shyness  greater  than  her  own,  and  relieved 
of  the  immediate  prospect  of  meeting  his  eyes, 
examined  him  curiously  after  he  had  taken 
a  chair  and  the  others  were  amiably  covering 
his  silence  with  their  chatter.  He  had  dressed 
himself  in  an  old  but  immaculate  white  linen 
suit  with  a  high  collar  and  small  necktie. 
It  was  evident  that  he  had  always  been  very 
thin,  for  his  clothes,  unassisted  by  stays,  fitted 
without  a  wrinkle,  although  his  shoulders  were 
perhaps  more  bowed  than  when  his  tailor 
had  measured  him.  His  hair  was  properly 
cut  and  parted,  but  although  he  was  still 
young,  its  black  was  bright  with  silver.  His 
head  and  brow  were  nobly  formed,  his  set 


70  THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

features  fine  and  sensitive,  but  his  thin  face 
was  lined  and  gray.  It  was  unmistakably 
the  face  of  a  dissipated  man,  but  oddly  enough 
the  chin  was  not  noticeably  weak,  and  the 
ideality  of  the  brow,  and  the  delicacy  of  the 
nostril  and  upper  lip  were  unaltered.  Never- 
theless, and  in  spite  of  the  suggestion  of  ease 
which  still  lingered  about  his  tall  figure, 
there  was  something  so  abject  about  his  whole 
appearance,  his  painful  self-consciousness  at 
finding  himself  once  more  among  people  that 
had  justly  cast  him  out  was  so  apparent,  that 
Anne  longed  for  an  excuse  to  bid  him  go 
forth  and  hide  himself  once  more.  But  to 
dismiss  him  was  the  part  of  Lady  Hunsdon, 
who  had  no  intention  of  doing  anything  of  the 
sort.  It  is  doubtful  if  either  she  or  any  of 
the  others  saw  aught  in  his  bearing  but  the 
natural  embarrassment  of  a  shy  man  at  finding 
himself  once  more  within  the  enchanted  circle. 
Lady  Hunsdon  expatiated  upon  the  beauty 
of  Nevis,  long  familiar  to  her  through  his 
works,  vowed  that  she  had  come  to  the  island 
only  to  see  for  herself  how  much  he  had 
exaggerated,  but  was  quite  vanquished  and 
speechless.  Not  to  have  met  her  son's  most 
valued  friend  would  have  blurred  and  flawed 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE  71 

the  wonderful  experience.  Warner  bowed 
gravely  once  or  twice,  but  did  not  raise  his 
eyes,  to  Anne's  continued  relief:  she  dreaded 
what  she  must  meet  in  them.  If  the  rest  of 
his  face  was  a  ruin,  what  sinks  of  iniquity, 
what  wells  of  horror,  must  be  those  recording 
features  ?  There  were  lines  about  them  and 
not  from  laughter!  He  looked  as  if  he  had 
never  smiled.  She  pitied  him  so  deeply  that 
she  could  have  wept,  for  she  had  never  seen 
an  unhappier  mortal ;  but  she  had  no  desire  to 
approach  him  further. 

Miss  Bargarny  poured  the  tea,  and  when 
she  passed  his  cup,  roguishly  quoted  a  couplet 
from  one  of  his  poems;  lines  that  had  no 
reference  to  tea  —  God  knows,  he  had  never 
written  about  tea  —  but  which  tripped  from 
her  tongue  so  gracefully  that  they  had  the 
effect  of  sounding  apropos.  He  blushed 
slightly  and  bowed  again;  and  shortly  after, 
when  all  the  cups  had  been  handed  about  and 
he  had  drained  his  own,  seemed  to  recover 
his  poise,  for  he  addressed  a  few  remarks  to 
Lady  Hunsdon,  at  whose  right  he  sat.  Anne, 
who  was  seated  some  distance  from  the  table 
could  not  even  hear  his  voice,  but  Lady  Huns- 
don received  such  as  he  ventured  upon  with 


72  THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

so  much  empressement,  that  he  manifestly 
rose  in  courage;  in  a  few  moments  he  was 
extending  his  attention  to  Lady  Mary  Den- 
bigh, who  leaned  forward  with  an  exalted 
expression  shaded  by  ringlets,  raising  her 
imperceptible  bosom  with  an  eloquent  sigh. 
By  this  time  Lord  Hunsdon  was  talking  into 
Anne's  ear  and  she  could  hear  nothing  of  the 
conversation  opposite,  although  now  and 
again  she  caught  a  syllable  from  a  low  toneless 
voice.  But  his  first  agony  was  passed  as  well 
as  her  own,  and  she  endeavoured  to  forget 
him  in  her  swain's  comments  upon  the  political 
news  arrived  with  the  packet  that  afternoon. 
When  tea  was  over  and  Miss  Bargarny,  who 
cultivated  liveliness  of  manner,  had  engaged 
the  poet  in  a  discussion  upon  the  relative 
merits  of  Shelley  and  Nathaniel  P.  Willis  — 
astonishingly  original  on  her  part,  mild  to  the 
outposts  of  indifference  on  his  —  Anne  fol- 
lowed Hunsdon  to  the  other  side  of  the  room 
to  look  over  an  album  of  his  mother's,  just 
unpacked.  It  contained  calotypes  of  the  most 
distinguished  men  and  women  of  the  day, 
and  Anne,  who  had  barely  seen  a  daguerreo- 
type before,  and  never  a  presentment  of  the 
famous  people  of  her  time,  became  so  absorbed 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE  73 

that  she  forgot  the  poet  to  whose  spirit  hers 
had  been  wedded  these  five  years,  and  whose 
visible  part  had  sickened  the  very  depths  of 
her  being.  Lord  Hunsdon  had  the  pleasure 
of  watching  her  kindling  eyes  as  he  told  her 
personal  details  of  each  of  his  friends,  and 
when  Anne  cried  out  that  she  was  living  in  a 
bit  of  contemporary  history,  he  too  flushed, 
and  felt  that  his  suit  prospered.  But  Anne 
was  thinking  as  little  of  him  as  of  Warner,  and 
so  intent  was  she  upon  the  ugly  striking 
physiognomy  of  the  author  of  "Venetia," 
with,  his  Byronic  curls  and  flowing  collar,  that 
she  was  hardly  aware  that  Lord  Hunsdon's 
attentions  had  been  claimed  by  his  mother; 
who  skilfully  transferred  him  to  the  side  of 
Lady  Mary. 

A  moment  later  she  turned  abruptly  and 
met  the  eyes  of  Warner.  He  was  sitting 
apart,  and  he  was  staring  at  her.  It  was  not 
meeting  his  eyes  so  suddenly  that  turned  her 
hands  to  ice  and  made  them  shake  as  she 
returned  to  the  album,  but  the  eyes  themselves 
that  looked  out  from  the  ruin  of  his  face. 
She  had  expected  them  to  be  sneering,  las- 
civious, bold,  anything  but  what  they  were: 
the  most  spiritual  and  at  the  same  time  the 


74  THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

most  tormented  eyes  that  had  ever  been  set 
in  the  face  of  a  mortal.  She  caught  her 
breath.  What  could  it  mean  ?  No  man  could 
live  the  life  he  had  lived  —  Lady  Mary, 
who  had  a  fine  turn  for  gossip,  had  told  her 
all  that  Lord  Hunsdon  had  left  unsaid  —  and 
keep  his  soul  unspotted.  It  was  marvellous, 
incredible.  She  recalled  confusedly  some- 
thing Hunsdon  had  said  about  his  having  a 
beautiful  character  —  well,  that  was  origin- 
ally, not  after  years  of  degradation.  Besides, 
Hunsdon  was  a  fanatical  enthusiast. 

At  this  point  she  became  aware  that  Warner 
was  standing  beside  her,  but  as  she  glanced 
up  in  a  surprise  that  restored  her  self-pos- 
session, he  had  averted  his  eyes,  and  embarrass- 
ment had  claimed  him  again.  She  was  too 
much  of  a  woman  not  to  rush  to  the  rescue. 

"I  have  never  seen  anything  so  interesting!" 
she  exclaimed  with  great  animation,  "I  am 
sure  you  will  agree  with  me,  although  of 
course  you  have  met  all  these  great  people. 
Is  not  this  process  a  vast  improvement  upon 
the  daguerreotype?  And  I  am  told  they 
expect  to  do  better  still.  Have  you  read 
'Venetia'?  Do  you  remember  that  Disraeli 
makes  Lord  Cadurcis  —  Byron  —  assert  that 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE  75 

Shakespeare  did  not  write  his  own  plays  ? 
Fancy!" 

"I  never  for  a  moment  supposed  that  he 
did,"  replied  Warner,  evidently  grasping  at  a 
subject  upon  which  he  felt  at  home.  "Nor 
did  Byron.  Nor,  I  fancy,  will  a  good  many 
others,  when  they  begin  to  think  for  them- 
selves —  or  study  the  Elizabethan  era.  I 
have  never  read  any  of  Disraeli's  novels. 
Do  you  think  them  worth  reading?" 

He  was  looking  at  her  now,  still  with  that 
expression  of  a  saint  at  the  stake,  but  obvi- 
ously inattentive  to  her  literary  opinions. 
Before  she  could  answer  he  said  abruptly: 

"What  a  fine  walker  you  are !  I  have  never 
seen  a  woman  walk  as  you  do.  It  is  not  the 
custom  here,  and  even  in  England  the  ladies 
seemed  far  too  elegant  to  do  more  than  stroll 
through  a  park." 

"I  am  not  at  all  elegant,"  replied  Anne, 
smiling;  "as  my  aunt  will  tell  you.  I  had  to 
make  myself  some  short  skirts,  and  I  get  up 
at  unearthly  hours  to  have  my  tramp  and 
return  in  time  to  dress  for  breakfast.  But 
I  have  never  met  you." 

"I  have  passed  you  several  times,  but  of 
course  you  did  not  notice  me.  I  have  a  hut 


76  THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

up  in  one  of  the  jungles  and  I  am  always 
prowling  about  at  that  hour  in  the  morning." 
He  hesitated,  drew  in  his  breath  audibly,  and 
as  he  looked  down  again,  the  colour  rose  under 
his  pallid  loose  skin.  "I  came  here  to-day 
to  meet  you,"  he  added. 

For  a  moment  Anne  felt  that  she  was  going 
to  faint.  Good  God!  Had  this  dreary  out- 
cast found  his  way  to  her  castles  in  Spain? 
Could  he  know?  She  was  unable  to  articu- 
late, and  he  went  on. 

'You  must  pardon  me  if  that  was  too  bold 
a  thing  to  say  —  you  are  the  last  person  to 
whom  I  would  give  offence!  But  you  have 
seemed  to  me  the  very  spirit  of  the  fresh 
robust  North.  I  have  fancied  I  could  see 
the  salt  wind  blowing  about  you.  All  the 
English  Creoles  of  this  island  are  like  porce- 
lain. The  fine  ladies  that  come  to  Bath  House 
take  too  much  care  of  their  complexions, 
doubtless  of  their  pretty  feet  —  they  all  want 
to  be  beauties  rather  than  women.  That  is 
the  reason  you  seem  something  of  a  goddess 
by  contrast,  and  vastly  refreshing  to  a  West 
Indian." 

Anne  drew  a  long  breath  as  he  blundered 
through  his  explanation.  She  was  relieved, 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE  77 

but  at  the  same  time  femininely  conscious  of 
disappointment.  Nor  was  there  sentiment 
in  his  low  monotonous  voice.  He  paid  but 
the  homage  of  weary  man  to  vital  youth. 

"I  am  unfashionably  healthy,"  she  said, 
hoping  that  her  eyes  danced  with  laughter  at 
the  idea  of  being  likened  to  a  goddess.  She 
continued  with  great  vivacity,  "How  relieved  I 
am  that  you  have  never  noticed  the  hang  of 
my  morning  skirts.  Ah,  that  is  because  you 
are  a  poet.  But  I  wish  I  could  give  you  one- 
tenth  of  the  pleasure,  by  my  suggestion  of  the 
North,  that  I  derive  from  your  wonderful 
tropics.  Don't  fancy  that  I  get  up  at  five 
merely  for  the  pleasure  of  exercise.  My  chief 
object  is  to  enjoy  your  island  for  a  bit  while 
all  the  rest  of  the  world  is  asleep.  These  last 
sixteen  days  have  been  the  happiest  of  my 
life."  She  brought  out  the  last  words  some- 
what defiantly,  but  she  met  his  gaze,  still 
smiling. 

"I  am  not  surprised  to  learn  that  you  are  a 
poet.  What  else  could  be  expected  —  once 
I  learned  to  pay  compliments  gracefully,  but 
if  I  have  forgotten  the  art,  I  have  not  lost  my 
power  to  admire  and  appreciate  beauty  in  any 
form.  It  has  given  me  the  greatest  pleasure 


78  THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

I  have  known  for  years  to  watch  you,  and  I 
thank  you  for  coming  to  Nevis.'* 

Anne  by  this  time  was  accustomed  to  the 
high-flown  compliments  of  polite  society, 
but  she  could  not  doubt  the  sincerity  of  this 
man,  who  had  no  place  in  a  world  where  idle 
flattery  was  the  small  coin  of  talk.  She 
blushed  slightly  and  changed  the  subject, 
and  as  he  talked,  less  and  less  haltingly,  of 
the  traditions  of  Nevis,  she  watched  his  eyes, 
fascinated.  They  were  not  the  eyes  of  mere 
youth,  any  more  than  of  a  man  who  had  seen 
far  too  much  of  life.  Neither,  upon  closer 
inspection,  were  they  the  eyes  of  a  saint  or  a 
martyr,  although  she  could  better  understand 
Hunsdon's  estimate  by  picturing  him  born 
three  centuries  earlier.  But  they  were  the 
eyes  of  the  undying  idealist,  of  the  inner 
vision,  of  a  mental  and  spiritual  life  apart  from 
the  frailties  of  the  body.  They  seemed  to 
look  at  her,  intent  as  was  his  gaze,  as  from  a 
vast  distance,  from  heights  which  neither  she 
nor  all  that  respectable  world  that  despised 
his  poor  shell  could  ever  attain.  With  it  all 
there  was  no  hint  of  superciliousness:  the 
eyes  were  too  sad,  too  terribly  wise  in  their 
own  way  for  that ;  and  his  whole  manner  went 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE  79 

far  beyond  modesty;  it  had  all  the  pitiable 
self-consciousness  of  one  that  has  fallen  from 
the  higher  social  plane.  No  common  man, 
no  matter  what  his  fame  and  offences,  could 
lose  his  self-respect  as  this  poor  gentleman  had 
done.  Anne,  filled  with  a  pity  she  had  never 
known  was  in  her,  exerted  herself  to  divert 
his  mind  from  the  gulf  which  had  so  long 
separated  him  from  his  class.  She  talked  as 
she  fancied  other  women  must  have  talked  to 
him  when  he  visited  London  in  the  first  flush 
of  his  youth  and  fame.  She  even  began  with 
'The  Blue  Sepulchre,"  which  now  no  longer 
ranked  with  the  best  of  his  work,  so  far  had  he 
progressed  beyond  the  unlicensed  imagination 
of  youth.  She  told  him  that  she  looked  down 
from  her  balcony  every  morning  expecting 
to  see  the  domes  and  towers  of  ancient  cities 
rise  from  the  sea.  And,  alas!  in  the  enthusi- 
asm of  her  cause,  before  she  could  call  a 
halt,  she  had  told  him  all  that  his  poetry 
had  meant  to  her  in  her  lonely  life  by  the 
North  Sea;  in  a  few  moments  he  was  aware 
that  she  possessed  every  volume  he  had 
written,  knew  every  line  by  heart ;  and  although 
she  caught  herself  up  in  time  jealously  to 
conceal  the  more  portentous  meanings  it  had 


80  THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

held  for  her,  he  heard  enough  to  make  his 
eyes  kindle  at  this  delicious  echo  of  his  youth, 
coming  from  an  innocent  lovely  creature  who 
had  evidently  heard  little  of  his  evil  life. 

"I  knew  that  you  came  from  the  sea!" 
he  exclaimed.  "And  the  purple  rolling  moors ! 
How  well  I  remember  them,  and  longed  to 
write  of  them.  But  only  these  latitudes  drive 
my  pen.  Indeed,  I  once  tried  to  write  about 
the  heather  —  the  purple  twilight  —  no  fig- 
ment of  the  poetical  fancy,  that.  The  atmos- 
phere at  that  hour  literally  is  purple." 

"When  it  is  purple!  But  you  should  see 
the  moors  in  all  their  moods  as  I  have  done. 
I  rarely  missed  a  day  in  winter,  no  matter 
how  wild  —  I  have  tramped  half  a  day  many 
a  time.  And  I  can  assure  you  that  the  sea 
itself  cannot  look  more  wild,  more  terrify- 
ing —  with  the  wrack  driving  overhead,  and 
the  rain  falling  in  torrents,  and  the  wind 
whistling  and  roaring,  and  rushing  past  you 
as  if  called  by  the  sea  to  some  frightful  tryst, 
some  horrible  orgy  of  the  elements,  and 
striving  to  tear  you  up  and  carry  you  with  it. 
Still  —  still  —  perhaps  it  is  as  beautiful  — 
then  —  in  its  way,  as  in  its  season  of  colour 
and  peace." 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE  81 

"Ah!  I  knew  you  would  say  that."  He 
added  in  a  moment,  'You  are  the  only 
person  that  has  quoted  my  lines  to  me  that 
has  not  embarrassed  me  painfully.  For  the 
moment  I  felt  that  you  had  written  them, 
not  I!" 

"I  often  used  to  feel  that  I  had;  all,  that 

is "  The  magnet  of  danger  to  the 

curiosity  in  her  feminine  soul  was  irresistible. 
"All  but  your  ode  to  the  mate  whom  you 
never  could  find." 

And  then  she  turned  cold,  for  she  remem- 
bered the  story  of  the  woman  who  had  been 
his  ruin.  But  he  did  not  pale  nor  shrink; 
he  merely  smiled  and  his  eyes  seemed  to  with- 
draw still  farther  away.  "Ah!  that  woman 
of  whom  all  poets  dream.  Perhaps  we  really 
find  her  as  we  invoke  her  for  a  bit  with  the 
pen."  Then  he  broke  off  abruptly  and 
looked  hard  at  her,  his  eyes  no  longer  absent. 

"You  —  you "  he  began.  "Ten  years 

ago "  And  then  his  face  flushed  so 

darkly  that  Anne  laughed  gaily  to  cover  the 
cold  and  horror  that  gripped  her  once  more. 

"Ten  years  ago  ?  I  was  only  twelve!  And 
now  —  I  am  made  to  feel  every  day  that  two- 
and-twenty  is  quite  old.  In  three  more 


82  THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

years  I  shall  be  an  orthodox  old  maid.  All 
the  women  in  Bath  House  intimate  that  I 
am  already  beyond  the  marriageable  age." 

"The  men  do  not,  I  fancy!"  The  poet 
spoke  with  the  energy  of  a  man  himself. 
"Besides,  I  looked — happened  to  look — 
through  the  window  of  the  saloon  one  night 
and  saw  you  talking  to  no  less  than  four 
gallants." 

Here  she  turned  away  in  insufferable  con- 
fusion, and  he,  too,  seemed  to  realise  that  he 
had  betrayed  a  deeper  interest  than  he  had 
intended.  With  a  muttered  au  revoir  he 
left  her,  and  when  she  finally  turned  her  head 
he  was  gone.  Miss  Bargarny  was  exclaiming: 

"Well,  dear  Lady  Hunsdon,  he  was  quite 
delightful,  genteel,  altogether  the  gentleman. 
Thank  heaven  I  never  heard  all  those  naughty 
stories,  so  I  can  admire  without  stint.  Did 
you  notice,  Mary,  how  pleased  he  was  when 
I  recited  that  couplet?" 

"I  saw  that  he  was  very  much  embarrassed," 
replied  Lady  Mary,  who  for  an  elegiac  figure 
had  a  surprising  reserve  of  human  nature. 
"It  was  too  soon  to  be  "personal  with  a  poor 
man  who  has  been  out  of  the  world  so  long. 
But  I  think  he  enjoyed  himself  after  the  first 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE  83 

embarrassment  wore  off.  I  feel  surer  still," 
with  an  exalted  expression  turned  suddenly 
upon  Lord  Hunsdon,  "that  we  shall  rescue 
him.  We  must  have  him  here  often,  not  lose 
a  day  of  this  precious  time.  Then  we  can 
leave  Nevis  without  anxiety,  or  perhaps 
induce  him  to  go  with  us."  She  reflected 
that  were  she  mistress  of  Hunsdon  Towers 
she  should  be  quite  willing  to  give  the  famous 
poet  a  turret  and  pass  as  his  mundane 
redeemer. 

Hunsdon  moved  toward  her  as  if  her  enthu- 
siasm were  a  magnet.  "It  has  all  exceeded 
my  fondest  hopes,"  he  exclaimed.  "He  was 
quite  like  his  old  self  before  he  left  — 

"Thanks  to  Miss  Percy,"  broke  in  a 
stridulous  voice.  "He  was  devoured  with 
ennui,  to  say  nothing  of  shyness,  until  he 
summoned  up  courage  to  talk  to  her,  and  then 
he  seemed  to  me  quite  like  any  ordinary 
young  spark.  I  don't  know  that  he  quite 
forgot  to  be  a  poet,"  she  concluded  with  some 
gallantry,  for  she  had  taken  a  great  fancy  to 
Anne  and  was  determined  to  marry  her  bril- 
liantly, "but  he  certainly  ceased  for  a  few 
moments  to  look  like  a  God-forsaken  one. 
What  were  you  talking  about,  my  dea-r?" 


84  THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 


Lady  Constance  —  Oh,  Nevis,  and 
his  poetry,  for  the  most  part." 

"I  should  think  he  would  be  sick  of  both 
subjects.  Come  now,  be  frank.  Did  not 
you  get  on  the  subject  of  your  pretty  self? 
I  '11  be  bound  he  has  an  eye  for  a  fine  girl  as 
well  as  the  best  of  them.  You  make  Mary 
and  Lillian  look  like  paper  dolls." 

"I  do  protest!"  cried  Miss  Bargarny  indig- 
nantly. "If  he  does  it  is  practically  because 
he  is  a  —  lives  in  the  country  himself.  If 
he  lived  in  London  among  people  of  the  first 
fashion  -  ' 

"He  'd  admire  her  all  the  more.  Look  at 
the  other  beaux.  Wait  until  Miss  Percy  is  in 
the  high  tide  of  a  London  season.  You  forget 
that  if  girls  are  always  on  the  catch,  men  are 
always  ready  for  a  change." 

Miss  Bargarny's  black  eyes  were  in  flames, 
but  she  dared  not  provoke  that  dreaded 
tongue  further.  She  forced  herself  to  smile  as 
she  turned  to  Anne,  standing  abashed  during 
this  discussion  of  herself,  and  longing  to  be 
alone  with  her  chaotic  thoughts.  "Confess, 
dear  Miss  Percy,  that  you  did  not  talk  about 
yourself,  but  about  that  most  fascinating  of 
all  subjects  to  man,  himself.  I  believe  you 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE  86 

have  the  true  instinct  of  the  coquette,  in  spite 
of  your  great  lack  of  experience,  and  that  is  a 
coquette's  chief est  sugar-plum." 

"I  believe  I  did  talk  about  himself  —  natur- 
ally, as  I  have  always  been  a  great  admirer  of 
his  work,  and  the  very  inexperience  you  men- 
tion makes  me  seize  upon  such  subjects  as  I 
know  anything  about." 

Lady  Mary  went  forward  and  put  her  arm 
about  her  new  friend's  waist.  "Let  us  take 
a  turn  in  the  orchard  before  it  is  time  to  retire," 
she  said.  "I  long  to  talk  to  you  about  our 
new  acquaintance.  Try  to  devise  a  plan  to 
bring  him  here  daily,"  she  said  over  her 
shoulder  to  the  complacent  hostess;  and  to 
Lord  Hunsdon,  "Will  you  come  for  us  in  a 
quarter  of  an  hour?" 

It  was  only  of  late  that  Lady  Mary  had 
determined  to  lay  away  in  lavender  the  luxury 
of  sorrow.  When  a  woman  is  thirty  ambition 
looms  as  an  excellent  substitute  for  romance, 
and  there  had  been  unexpected  opportunities 
to  charm  a  wealthy  peer  during  the  past 
five  weeks.  She  hated  poetry  and  thought 
this  poet  a  horror,  but  he  was  an  excellent 
weapon  in  the  siege  of  Hunsdon  Towers. 
She  was  not  jealous  of  Anne,  for  she  divined 


86  THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

that  Hunsdon's  suit,  if  suit  it  were,  was  hope- 
less, and  believed  that  her  new  friend's  good 
nature  would  help  her  to  win  the  prize  of 
a  dozen  seasons.  So  she  refreshed  her  com- 
plexion with  buttermilk  and  spirits  of  wine, 
and  made  love  to  Anne;  who  saw  through  her 
manoeuvres  but  was  quite  willing  to  further 
them  if  it  would  save  herself  the  ordeal  of 
refusing  Lord  Hunsdon. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  following  evening  there  was  so 
much  more  dancing  than  usual  —  a 
number  of  officers  had  come  over  from  St. 
Kitts  —  that  the  saloon  was  deserted  by  the 
young  people,  and  at  the  height  of  the 
impromptu  ball  Anne  found  herself  alone  near 
one  of  the  open  windows.  The  older  people 
were  intent  upon  cards.  Anne,  who  had 
grown  bolder  since  her  first  appearance  in  the 
world,  now  close  upon  three  weeks  ago, 
obeyed  an  impulse  to  step  through  the  win- 
dow, descended  the  terrace  and  walked  along 
the  beach.  She  could  have  gone  to  her  room 
and  found  the  solitude  she  craved,  but  she 
wanted  movement,  and  the  night  was  so 
beautiful  that  it  called  to  her  irresistibly.  The 
moon  was  at  the  full,  she  could  see  the  blue 
of  the  sea  under  its  crystal  flood.  The  blades 
of  the  palm  trees  glittered  like  sinister  weapons 
unsheathed.  She  could  outline  every  leaf 
of  palm,  cocoanut,  and  banana  that  fringed 
the  shore.  The  nightingales  ceased  their 

87 


88  THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

warbling  and  she  heard  that  other  and  still 
more  enchanting  music  of  a  tropic  night,  the 
tiny  ringing  of  a  million  silver  bells.  What 
fairy-like  creature  of  the  insect  world  gave 
out  this  lovely  music  she  was  at  no  pains  to 
discover.  It  was  enough  that  it  was,  and  she 
had  leaned  out  of  her  window  many  a  night 
and  wondered  why  Byam  Warner  had  never 
sung  its  music  in  his  verse. 

Byam  Warner!  How  —  how  was  she  to 
think  of  him?  Her  overthrown  ideals  no 
longer  even  interested  her,  belonging  as  they 
did  to  some  far  off  time  when  she  had  not 
come  herself  to  dream  upon  these  ravishing 
shores.  And  now  the  surrender  of  the  past 
three  weeks  had  been  far  more  rudely  dis- 
turbed. Would  even  Nevis  dominate  again  ? 
Must  not  such  a  man,  even  in  his  ruin,  cast 
his  shadow  over  any  scene  of  which  he  was 
a  part  ?  And  of  Nevis  he  was  a  part !  She 
had  been  able  to  disassociate  them  only  until 
he  stood  before  her,  quick.  And  now  she 
should  see  him,  talk  to  him  every  day,  possibly 
receive  his  devotions,  for  there  was  no  doubt 
that  he  admired  her  as  the  antithesis  of  all 
to  which  he  had  been  accustomed  from  birth ; 
unquestionably  she  must  take  her  part  in  his 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE  89 

redemption.  The  thought  thrilled  her,  and 
she  paused  a  moment  looking  out  over  the 
water.  Faded,  even  repellent,  as  that  husk 
was,  not  only  was  his  genius  so  far  unimpaired, 
but  she  believed  that  she  had  caught  a  glimpse 
of  a  great  soul  dwelling  apart  in  that  polluted 
tenement.  From  the  latter  she  shrank  with 
all  the  aversion  of  uncontaminated  girlhood, 
but  she  felt  that  she  owed  it  to  her  intellect  to 
recognise  the  separateness  of  those  highest 
faculties  possessed  by  the  few,  from  the  flesh 
they  were  forced  to  carry  in  common  with  the 
aborigines.  And  it  seemed  almost  incredible 
that  his  life  had  not  swamped,  mired,  smoth- 
ered all  that  was  lofty  and  beautiful  in  that 
inner  citadel;  her  feminine  curiosity  impelled 
her  to  discover  if  this  really  were  so,  or  if  he 
had  merely  retained  a  trick  of  expression. 

She  was  skirting  the  town,  keeping  close 
to  the  shore,  but  she  paused  again,  involun- 
tarily, to  look  in  the  direction  of  that  baker's 
dwelling,  through  the  window  of  which,  some 
months  since,  Byam  Warner,  mad  with  drink, 
had  precipitated  himself  one  night,  shrieking 
for  the  handsome  wife  of  the  indignant  spouse. 
For  this  escapade  he  had  lain  in  jail  until  a 
coloured  planter  had  bailed  him  out  —  for 


90  THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

the  white  Creoles  thought  it  a  good  opportunity 
to  emphasize  their  opinion  of  him  —  and 
although  he  had  been  dismissed  with  a  fine, 
the  judge  had  delivered  himself  of  a  weighty 
reprimand  which  was  duly  published  in  the 
local  paper.  He  had  lain  in  prison  only  forty- 
eight  hours,  but  he  had  lain  in  prison,  and 
the  disgrace  was  indelible.  No  wonder  he  had 
been  ashamed  to  hold  up  his  head,  had 
hesitated  so  long  to  accept  Lady  Hunsdon's 
invitation.  The  wonder  was  it  had  been 
extended.  Anne  shrewdly  inferred  it  never 
would  have  been  in  London,  no  matter  what 
the  entreaties  of  Lord  Hunsdon,  but  on  this 
island  many  laws  were  relaxed  and  many  a  sin 
left  behind. 

Then  her  thoughts  swung  to  his  indubious 
assertion  that  he  had  emerged  from  his  lair 
merely  that  he  might  meet  her.  She  recalled 
the  admiration  in  his  eyes,  the  desperate 
effort  with  which  he  had  overcome  his  shyness 
and  approached  her.  What  irony,  if  after 
having  been  ignorant,  unsuspecting,  of  her 
existence  during  all  those  years  of  her  worship, 
when  she  had  been  his  more  truly  than  in 
many  a  corporeal  marriage,  he  should  love 
her  now  that  she  could  only  think  of  him  with 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE  91 

pity  and  contempt.  It  gave  her  a  fierce  shock 
of  repulsion  that  he  might  wish  to  marry  her, 
dwell  even  in  thought  upon  possessing  her 
untouched  youth  after  the  lewdness  of  his  own 
life.  She  must  crush  any  such  hope  in  its 
bulb  if  she  would  not  hate  him  and  do  him  ill 
when  she  sincerely  wished  him  well.  She 
reviewed  the  beaux  of  Bath  House  for  one 
upon  whom  she  might  pretend  to  fix  her 
affections,  and  at  once,  before  Warner's 
inclination  ripened  into  passion;  but  the  very 
thought  of  entering  into  a  serious  flirtation  with 
any  of  those  tight- waisted,  tight- trousered 
exquisites  induced  a  sensation  of  ennui, 
and  with  Hunsdon  she  did  not  care  to  trifle. 
He  might  be  wearisome,  but  he  was  good  and 
sincere,  and  Lady  Mary  should  have  him  were 
it  in  her  power  to  bring  about  that  eminently 
proper  match. 

It  was  at  thi«  point  in  her  reflections  that 
she  found  herself  opposite  the  house  of  the 
poet. 


CHAPTER  Vin 

had  walked  more  rapidly  than  she 
had  been  aware  of  and  was  shocked 
at  her  apparent  unmaidenliness  in  approach- 
ing the  house  of  a  man,  and  at  night, 
in  whom  she  was  irresistibly  interested;  al- 
though, to  be  sure,  if  she  walked  round  the 
island,  to  pass  his  house  sooner  or  later  was 
inevitable.  She  was  about  to  turn  and  hurry 
home,  when  she  saw  what  had  appeared  to  be 
a  shadow  detach  itself  from  the  tree  in  the 
court  and  approach  her.  She  recognised 
Warner  and  stood  rooted  to  the  ground  with 
terror.  All  the  wild  and  detestable  stories 
she  had  heard  of  him  sprang  to  her  mind  in 
bold  relief,  and  although  she  had  met  many 
a  hard  character  when  tramping  her  moor? 
and  felt  sure  of  coming  off  best  in  a  struggle 
her  strength  ebbed  out  of  her  before  this 
approaching  embodiment  of  all  mysterious 
vice.  To  fly  down  the  beach  in  a  hoop 
was  impossible;  besides  she  would  look 
ridiculous.  But  what  would  he  do!  She 

92 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE  93 

forgot  his  eyes  and  remembered  only  his 
adventures. 

But  he  looked  anything  but  formidable  as 
he  came  closer,  and,  being  without  a  hat, 
bowed  courteously.  Under  the  softening  rays 
of  the  moon  his  features  looked  less  worn, 
his  skin  less  pallid,  and,  perhaps  because  she 
was  alone  and  attracted  him  strongly,  his 
hang-dog  air  was  less  apparent.  He  even 
made  an  effort  to  straighten  his  listless 
shoulders  as  he  came  close  enough  to  get  a 
full  view  of  the  beautiful  young  woman, 
standing  with  uncovered  head  and  neck  in 
the  bright  light  of  the  moon  and  staring  at 
him  with  unaccountable  apprehension. 

"It  is  I,  Miss  Percy,"  he  said.  "Have 
you  walked  ahead  of  your  party  ?  I  have  not 
seen  anyone  pass.'* 

"I — it  is  a  dreadful  thing  to  do,  I 
know  --  I  stepped  out  of  the  window  -  -  just  to 
take  a  stroll  by  myself.  I  never  seem  to  get 
a  moment  alone.  I  am  so  tired  of  hearing 
people  chatter.  I  was  thinking  — before 
I  knew  it  I  was  here.  I  must  go  back.  My 
aunt  will  be  very  angry." 

"Let  me  get  you  a  cloak.  Your  shoulders 
are  bare  and  the  fog  will  come  down  presently." 


He  went  rapidly  into  the  house  and  she  had 
her  chance  to  flee,  but  she  waited  obediently 
until  he  returned  with  a  long  black  Inverness, 
which  he  laid  about  her  shoulders.  I 
shall  walk  home  with  you,"  he  said.  "I 
don't  think  you  are  quite  prudent  to  go  about 
alone  at  night.  There  are  rough  characters 
in  the  town." 

"Ah!  —  never  again.  You  are  very  kind. 
I  do  not  know  why  I  should  trouble  you." 

He  did  not  make  the  conventional  response, 
and  for  a  few  moments  they  walked  on  in 
silence.  Then,  gathering  confidence,  as  he 
barely  looked  at  her  and  was  undeniably  sober, 
she  asked  abruptly:  "Why  have  you  never 
written  of  the  fairy  orchestra  one  hears  every 
night?  It  is  about  the  only  phase  of  Nevis 
you  have  neglected." 

"The  little  bells?  Thank  you  for  calling 
my  attention  to  it.  I  remember  —  I  once 
thought  of  it.  But  so  many  other  things 
claimed  my  attention,  and  I  forgot  it.  I 
fancy  I  seldom  hear  it.  But  you  are  right; 
it  is  very  lovely  and  quite  peculiar  to  the  West 
Indies.  If  it  would  please  you  I  will  write 
some  verses  about  it  —  well  —  one  of  these 
days." 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE  95 

"I  wish  you  would  write  them  while  I  am 
here." 

"I  am  not  in  the  mood  for  writing  at 
present." 

He  spoke  hurriedly,  and  she  understood. 
Hunsdon  had  told  her  that  he  never  wrote 
save  under  stimulants.  Could  it  be  possible 
that  he  had  made  up  his  mind  not  to  drink 
as  long  as  she  was  on  Nevis  ?  She  turned 
to  him  a  radiant  face  of  which  she  was  quite 
unconscious,  as  she  replied  eagerly.  'Yes! 
We  have  all  resolved  that  you  shall  not  write 
a  line  this  winter.  A  few  months  out  of  your 
life  are  nothing  to  sacrifice  to  people  that 
admire  and  long  to  know  you  as  we  do.  Never 
was  a  man  so  sought.  I  cannot  tell  you  how 
many  schemes  we  have  already  devised  to  get 
hold  of  you  - 

"But  why  —  in  heaven's  name?  I  cannot 
help  feeling  the  absurdity." 

"Not  at  all.  You  are  the  most  celebrated 
poet  of  the  day,  and  all  the  world  loves  a 
lion." 

"For  some  five  years  the  world  of  Bath 
House  has  existed  without  the  capers  of  the 
local  lion,"  he  responded  dryly. 

"Ah,  but  you  were  so  determined  a  recluse. 


96  THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

It  takes  a  Lady  Hunsdon  to  coax  a  lion  from 
his  cave.  And,  no  doubt,  she  is  the  only 
person  to  come  to  Bath  House  during  all 
these  years  who  knew  you  well  enough  to 
take  such  a  liberty.  You  are  such  an  old 
and  intimate  friend  of  her  son." 

He  stole  a  quick  glance  at  her,  as  if  to 
ascertain  were  she  as  ignorant  of  his  life  as 
she  pretended,  but  she  was  now  successfully 
in  the  role  of  the  vivacious  young  woman, 
who,  in  common  with  the  rest  of  the  world, 
admired  his  work  and  was  flattered  to  know 
the  author. 

"Don't  think  that  we  mean  to  make  fools 
of  ourselves  and  bore  you,"  she  added,  with 
another  radiant  and  somewhat  anxious 
smile.  "But  now  that  the  opportunity  has 
come  we  are  all  so  happy,  and  we  feel  deeply 
the  compliment  you  have  already  paid  us. 
Lady  Hunsdon  hopes  that  you  will  read  from 
your  works  some  evening ' 

"Good  God,  no!  Unless,  to  be  sure,  you 
have  a  charity  entertainment.  I  have  done 
that  in  the  past  and  felt  that  the  object  com- 
pensated for  the  torture.  But  I  am  some- 
what surprised  to  find  that  you  are  a  lion 
hunter." 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE  97 

"I  don't  think  I  am  — that  is,  I  hardly 
know.  You  are  the  first  great  man  I  have 
ever  seen.  Perhaps  after  a  season  in  London 
I  shall  be  quite  frivolous  and  worldly." 

"I  can  imagine  nothing  of  the  kind.  I  am 
not  so  surprised  to  learn  that  you  have  not 
yet  spent  a  season  in  town." 

"Oh,  yes,  I  am  a  country  girl,"  she  said 
roguishly. 

"Not  quite  that."  But  he  did  not  pursue 
the  subject,  and  in  a  few  moments  they  came 
to  the  gates  of  Bath  House.  He  took  the 
cloak  from  her  shoulders.  "It  would  exceed 
the  bounds  of  decorum  should  I  escort  you 
further,"  he  said  formally.  "If  you  will 
hasten  you  will  not  take  cold.  Good  night." 

She  thanked  him  and  ran  up  the  steps  and, 
avoiding  the  saloon,  to  her  own  room. 

"I  have  begun  well,"  she  thought  trium- 
phantly. "No  one  could  say  that  I  have 
not  done  my  part.  And  if  he  does  not  drink 
for  three  months  — who  knows?" 


CHAPTER  IX 

ANNE  conceived  more  respect  for  Lord 
•**•  Hunsdon  as  the  days  went  on,  for  there 
was  no  doubt  that  his  stratagem,  carefully 
planned  and  carried  out,  was  succeeding. 
Whether  Warner  suspected  his  object  or  not 
no  one  could  guess,  but  that  he  was  flattered 
and  encouraged  there  could  be  no  question. 
Invitations  to  Bath  House  descended  in  show- 
ers. He  breakfasted,  lunched,  dined  there, 
drove  with  the  ladies  in  the  afternoon,  and 
finally  summoned  up  courage  to  be  host  at  a 
picnic  in  the  hills.  He  was  still  shy  and  quiet, 
but  he  no  longer  looked  abject  and  listless. 
His  shoulders  were  less  bowed,  even  his  skin 
grew  more  normal  of  hue,  the  flesh  beneath 
it  firmer.  It  might  be  a  fool's  paradise; 
these  spoilt  people  of  the  world  might  have 
forgotten  him  before  their  return  next  winter, 
but  the  mere  fact  that  they  overlooked  his 
flagrant  insults  to  society  and  once  more 
permitted  him  to  become  an  active  member  of 
his  own  class  was  enough  to  soothe  ugly 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 


memories  and  make  the  blood  run  more  freely 
in  his  veins. 

Anne  treated  him  with  a  uniform  courtesy 
and  flattering  animation,  but  made  no  oppor- 
tunities for  private  conversation,  and  he  on 
his  side  made  no  overt  attempt  at  deliberate 
approach.  On  the  contrary,  although  she 
often  caught  him  regarding  her  steadily, 
sometimes  with  a  sadness  that  made  her 
turn  aside  with  a  paling  colour,  he  seemed 
rather  to  avoid  her  than  otherwise.  Not 
so  Lord  Hunsdon.  He  was  ever  at  her  side 
in  spite  of  her  manifest  indifference,  and 
daily  confided  to  her  his  delight  in  Warner's 
response,  and  his  hopes.  He  joined  her  in 
no  more  of  her  walks,  but  he  rarely  failed 
to  attend  her  in  the  orchard  in  the  afternoon 
—  where  the  younger  guests  never  tired  of 
watching  the  little  black  boys  scramble  up 
the  tall  thin  smooth  cocoanut  trees,  and, 
grinning  and  singing  amidst  the  thick  mass 
of  leaves  at  the  top,  shake  down  the  green 
delicious  fruit  —  or  in  the  saloon  after  dinner. 
Frequently  he  invited  a  small  party  to  take 
grenadilla  ices  on  the  terrace  of  the  gay 
little  restaurant  in  Charlestown,  where  half 
the  creole  world  of  Nevis  was  to  be  met,  and 


100          THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

upon  one  occasion  he  took  several  of  the 
more  venturesome  out  to  spear  turtles,  that 
Anne  alone  might  be  gratified.  So  far  he 
had  made  no  declaration,  and  often  stared 
at  her  with  an  apprehension  and  a  diffidence 
that  seemed  a  travesty  on  the  fettered  and 
tortured  soul  that  looked  from  Warner's  eyes ; 
but  his  purpose  showed  no  wavering,  despite 
the  efforts  of  Lady  Hunsdon  and  of  Anne 
herself  to  bring  him  to  the  feet  of  Lady  Mary. 
That  his  mother  was  uneasy  was  manifest. 

V 

She  was  too  worldly  to  pin  her  faith  to  the 
apparent  indifference  of  any  portionless 
young  woman  to  a  wealthy  peer  of  the  realm, 
and  the  more  she  saw  of  Anne  Percy  the  less 
she  favoured  her  as  a  daughter-in-law.  Lady 
Constance,  who  understood  her  perfectly, 
laughed  outright  one  evening  as  she  inter- 
cepted a  scowl  directed  at  Hunsdon  and  Miss 
Percy,  who  sat  apart  in  one  of  the  withdraw- 
ing-rooms. 

"She  won't  have  him.     Do  not  worry." 

"I  am  not  at  ail  sure.  You  forget  that 
Hunsdon  would  be  a  great  match  for  any  girl." 

"She  does  not  care  two  straws  about  mak- 
ing a  great  match.** 

"Fiddlesticks.** 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE          101 

"She  is  made  on  the  grand  scale.  Hunsdon 
is  all  very  well,  but  he  makes  no  appeal  to 
the  imagination.  I  am  almost  glad  Warner 
has  made  such  a  wreck  of  himself.  A  hand- 
some, dashing  young  poet,  with  the  world 
at  his  feet,  might  be  fatal  to  her.  Warner 
never  was  dashing,  to  be  sure,  but  he  certainly 
was  handsome  ten  years  ago,  and  fame  is 
a  dazzling  halo." 

"He  improves  every  day,  but  he  seems  to 
fancy  Miss  Percy  as  little  as  any  of  the  others." 

"Poor  devil!  I  suppose  he  recalls  the  time 
when  so  many  girls  tried  to  marry  him.  I 
cannot  see  much  improvement  myself,  although 
he  does  not  look  quite  so  much  like  a  lost 
soul  roaming  about  in  search  of  a  respectable 
tenement.  But  his  physical  attraction  is  all 
gone.  Not  one  of  the  girls  is  in  love  with 
him,  not  one  of  the  men  jealous." 

"Oh, certainly  no  woman  could  fall  in  love 
with  him,  any  more  than  any  parent  would 
accept  him.  And  as  he  is  quite  safe  I  wish  he 
would  command  more  of  Miss  Percy's  atten- 
tion, and  leave  her  with  the  less  to  bestow 
on  Hunsdon." 

"He  is  too  much  in  love  with  her." 

"What?" 


102          THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

"I  seem  to  be  the  only  person  in  Bath 
House  with  eyes  in  my  head.  He  is  des- 
perately, miserably,  in  love  with  her,  and 
too  conscious  of  his  own  ruin,  too  respect- 
ful of  her,  to  dream  of  addressing  her.  He 
would  stay  away  altogether,  I  fancy,  did 
he  not  find  a  doubtful  pleasure  in  looking 
at  her." 

"I  am  distressed  if  I  have  added  to  his 
trouble,"  said  Lady  Hunsdon,  who  prided 
herself  upon  always  experiencing  the  correct 
sentiments.  "I  hoped  he  came  so  often  to 
us  because  we  had  restored  his  lost  self-respect, 
and  he  was  grateful  to  be  among  his  equals 
once  more." 

"Oh,  that,  doubtless.  But  the  rose  leaves 
crumple  more  with  every  visit.  I  only  hope 
the  reaction  will  not  awaken  the  echoes  of 
Nevis." 

"What  a  raven!  Let  us  hope  for  the  best 
and  continue  to  do  our  duty.  If  he  really 
is  in  love  with  Anne  Percy  it  may  prove  his 
redemption." 

"Much  more  likely  his  damnation.  It 
will  be  the  last  drop  in  a  cup  of  bitterness 
already  too  full." 

'You  grow  sentimental." 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE          103 

"Always  was.  But  that  never  prevented 
me  from  seeing  things  as  they  are.  The 
result  is  that  I  am  generally  called  cynical. 
But  don't  worry  about  Hunsdon.  He  needs 
a  refusal,  and  this  is  his  only  opportunity." 


CHAPTER  X 

T  ADY  MARY  DENBIGH  achieved  a  signal 
•^^  triumph ;  she  persuaded  the  poet  to  accom- 
pany her  to  church.  Fig  Tree  Church,  roman- 
tically poised  on  the  side  of  the  mountain, 
was  this  year  the  favoured  place  of  worship 
with  the  guests  of  Bath  House ;  and  where  this 
select  extract  of  London  led  all  the  world  of 
Nevis  followed.  And  not  merely  the  wives 
and  daughters  of  the  English  Creole  planters, 
but  the  coloured  population,  high  and  low, 
who  could  make  themselves  smart  enough. 
It  was  long  since  Warner  had  entered  a 
church,  and  the  brilliant  scene  contributed 
to  the  humour  of  his  mood.  The  church 
looked  as  gay  as  an  afternoon  rout  in  London 
at  the  height  of  the  season,  and  the  aristocracy 
of  Nevis  were  quite  as  fine  as  the  guests  of 
Bath  House.  Their  costumes  were  of  deli- 
cate fabrics  radiant  of  hue,  and  they  were 
beflounced  and  beruffled,  and  fringed  and 
ribboned.  There  were  floating  scarves  and 
sashes  of  lace  and  silk;  bonnets  were  covered 

104 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE          105 

with  plumes  and  flowers,  the  little  bunch  of 
curls  on  either  side  of  nearly  every  face, 
half-concealed  by  a  mass  of  blonde  or  tulle. 
Behind  the  elect  sat  the  respectable  coloured 
Creoles,  often  dignified  and  noble  of  aspect, 
for  the  West  Indian  African  had  been  torn 
from  a  superior  race;  their  dress  differing 
little  from  that  of  their  betters.  But  who 
shall  describe  the  mass  of  coloured  folk  massed 
at  the  back  of  the  church,  a  caricature 
of  the  gentry,  in  their  Sunday  abandon  to  the 
mightiest  of  their  passions.  Their  colours 
were  primal,  their  crinolines  and  bonnets 
enormous  —  the  latter  perched  far  back ; 
their  plumes,  if  cheaper,  were  even  longer; 
where  flowers  and  ribbons  took  the  place 
of  feathers  heads  looked  like  window  boxes; 
their  sleeves  were  so  tight  that  they  could 
not  hold  their  prayer  books  at  the  correct 
angle,  and  more  than  one  had  stumbled  over 
her  train  as  she  dropped  her  skirts  and 
tripped  into  the  church.  They  were  still 
further  bedecked  with  a  profusion  of  false  jew- 
ellery, cotton  lace  and  fringe,  ribbons  stream- 
ing from  every  curve  and  angle,  and  shoes  as 
gaudy  as  the  flowers  on  their  bonnets.  Their 
men,  in  imitation  of  the  aristocrats,  wore, 


106          THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

of  the  best  quality  they  could  muster,  smart 
coats,  flowered  waistcoats,  ruffled  neck-cloths, 
tight  white  trousers,  and  pointed  boots  a  size 
too  small.  They  were  the  tradespeople  of 
the  village;  in  some  cases  the  servants  of 
the  estates,  although  by  far  the  greater  num- 
ber of  the  young  women  of  humbler  Nevis 
had  received  a  smattering  of  education  and 
were  now  too  good  to  work.  Their  parents 
might  get  a  living  as  best  they  could,  huckster- 
ing or  on  the  plantations,  while  the  improved 
offspring,  content  to  herd  in  one  room  on  the 
scantiest  fare,  dreamed  of  gala  days  and  a 
scrap  of  new  finery.  Nevertheless,  many  of 
them  were  handsomer  than  the  white  fragile 
looking  aristocrats,  with  their  olive  or  cream 
coloured  skins,  liquid  black  eyes,  and  superb 
undulating  figures. 

Warner  had  more  than  once  written  of  the 
tragedy  of  these  people,  his  poet's  imagination 
tracing  the  descent  of  the  finer  specimens 
from  ancient  kings  whose  dust  was  mixed 
with  the  sands  of  the  desert;  and  his  had  been 
one  of  the  most  impassioned  voices  lifted  in 
the  cause  of  emancipation.  For  these  reasons 
he  was  much  beloved  by  the  coloured  folk  of 
Nevis  of  all  ranks,  and  sonue  one  of  them  had 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE          107 

never  failed  to  come  forward,  when  he  lay  ill 
and  neglected,  or  the  bailiffs  threatened  to 
sell  his  house  over  his  hes»d.  All  obligations 
were  faithfully  discharged,  for  he  received 
handsome  sums  from  his  publishers,  but  his 
patrimony  was  long  since  squandered ;  nothing 
remained  to  him  but  his  home  and  a  bit  of 
land  high  on  the  mountain,  which  he  had 
clung  to  because  he  loved  its  wild  beauty  and 
solitude. 

Lady  Mary  Denbigh,  with  her  languishing 
airs,  her  "Book  of  Beauty"  style,  bored  him 
more  than  anyone  in  Bath  House,  and  he  had 
begun  to  suspect  that  her  attentions  were  due 
not  more  to  vanity  than  to  a  desire  to  find 
favour  with  Lord  Hunsdon.  But  she  was 
seldom  far  from  Anne  Percy,  whose  propin- 
quity he  could  enjoy  even  if  debarred  com- 
munion. And  Lady  Mary  frequently  made 
Anne  the  theme  of  her  remarks,  in  entertain- 
ing the  poet;  whose  covert  admiration  she  too 
detected  and  encouraged,  although  not  without 
resentment.  Miss  Percy  was  undeniably 
handsome  and  high-born,  but  alas,  quite 
lacking  in  fashion,  in  style,  in  ton.  Not  that 
Lady  Mary  despaired  of  her.  If  she  could 
be  persuaded  to  pass  three  seasons  in  Lon- 


108          THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

don,  divorced  from  that  stranded  corner  of 
England  where  she  had  spent  twenty-two 
long  years,  all  her  new  friends  felt  quite 
hopeful  that  she  would  yet  do  them  credit 
and  become  a  young  lady  of  the  highest  fashion. 
Her  figure  was  really  good,  if  somewhat 
Amazonian,  and  her  face,  if  not  quite  regular 
-  with  those  black  eyebrows  as  wide  as  one's 
finger,  and  that  square  chin,  when  all  the 
beauties  had  oval  contours  and  delicate  arches 
above  limpid  eyes  —  was,  as  she  had  before 
maintained,  singularly  striking  and  handsome, 
and  if  perhaps  too  warmly  coloured,  this  was 
not  held  to  be  a  fault  by  some. 

Warner  recalled  the  bitter-sweet  of  her 
babble  as  he  heard  her  sigh  gently  beside 
him,  her  long  golden  ringlets  shading  her 
bent  face.  His  eyes  wandered,  after  their 
habit,  to  Anne  Percy,  who  sat  across  the 
church,  distinguished  in  that  gay  throng  by 
bonnet  and  gloves  and  gown  of  immaculate 
white.  He  worshipped  every  irregular  line 
in  that  noble,  impulsive,  passionate  face  and 
wondered  that  he  had  ever  thought  another 
woman  beautiful ;  condemned  his  imagination 
that  it  had  lacked  the  wit  to  conceive  a  like 
combination.  Her  eyes,  commonly  full  of 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE          109 

laughter,  he  had  seen  darken  with  anger 
and  melt  with  tenderness.  There  were 
moments  when  she  looked  so  strong  as  mo- 
mentarily to  isolate  herself  from  normal 
womanhood,  and  suggest  unlimited  if  unsus- 
pected powers  of  good  or  evil;  but  those  were 
fleeting  impressions;  as  a  rule  she  looked  the 
most  completely  human  woman  he  had  ever 
known. 

He  sighed  and  looked  away.  A  wave  of 
superlative  bitterness  shook  him,  but  he  was 
too  just  to  curse  life,  or  anyone  but  himself. 
He  did  not  even  curse  the  worthless  woman 
who  had  struck  the  curb  from  his  inherited 
weakness  and  made  him  a  slave  instead  of 
a  rigid  and  insolent  master.  She  had  been 
no  worse,  hardly  more  captivating,  than  a 
thousand  other  women,  but  she  had  appealed 
powerfully  to  his  poetical  imagination,  and  he 
had  elevated  her  into  the  sovereignship  of 
his  destiny,  endowed  her  with  all  the  graces 
of  soul,  the  grandeur  of  character  and  passion, 
that  he  had  hitherto  shaped  from  the  rich 
components  in  his  brain.  When  he  was 
faced  with  the  naked  truth  his  mental  dis- 
quiet was  as  great  as  his  anguish.  If  this 
woman,  one  of  the  most  finished  works  of 


110          THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

the  most  civilised  country  on  the  globe,  had 
revealed  herself  to  be  but  common  clay, 
where  should  he  find  another  worth  loving? 
Surely  the  woman  was  not  yet  evolved  who 
could  fasten  herself  permanently  to  his  soul 
and  his  senses.  This  may  have  been  a  rash 
conclusion  for  a  man  of  his  years,  but  a  poet 
is  as  old  in  brain  at  six-and-twenty  as  he  is 
green  in  soul  at  sixty.  With  all  the  ardour  of 
his  youth  and  temperament  he  had  longed 
for  his  mate,  dreamed  of  a  life  of  exalted 
companionship  on  the  most  poetic  of  isles; 
and  one  woman,  cleverer  than  many  he  had 
met,  had  read  his  dreams,  simulated  his 
ideal,  and  amused  herself  until  the  game 
ceased  to  amuse  her;  and  the  richest  nabob 
of  the  moment  returned  from  India  with  a 
brown  skull  like  a  mummy  had  offered  his 
rupees  in  exchange  for  the  social  state  that 
only  the  daughter  of  a  great  lord  could  give 
him.  She  had  laughed  good  naturedly  as 
Warner  flung  himself  at  her  feet  in  an  agony 
of  incredulous  despair,  and  told  him  that 
no  mood  had  become  him  so  well,  for 
hitherto  he  had  never  expressed  himself  fully 
save  in  verse.  And  Anne,  neither  classic 
nor  modish,  still  vaguely  resembled  her!  It 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE          111 

was  this  suggestion  of  the  woman  whom  at 
least  he  must  always  remember  as  the  per- 
fection of  female  beauty,  that  had  tempted 
him  to  lurk  in  the  darkness  of  the  terrace 
and  watch  Anne  through  the  windows  of  Bath 
House.  In  a  day  when  girls  cultivated  the 
sylph,  minced  in  their  speech,  had  number- 
less affectations,  his  early  choice  had  possessed 
a  noble,  large  figure  and  a  lofty  dignity.  She 
was  not  ashamed  to  walk,  was  to  be  seen  on 
her  horse  in  the  Row  every  morning,  and 
cultivated  her  excellent  brain. 

But  the  resemblance,  Warner  had  divined 
at  once,  was  superficial,  and  the  first  inter- 
view had  justified  his  instinct.  Anne  was  a 
child  in  many  ways;  the  other,  although 
younger  in  years,  had  been  cool,  shrewd, 
calculating,  making  no  false  moves  in  any 
game  she  chose  to  play.  Warner  knew  that 
if  he  had  discovered  a  gold  mine  in  Nevis 
and  won  her,  he  should  have  hated  her  long 
since. 

But  Anne  Percy!  He  could  not  make  the 
same  mistake  twice.  And  had  he  met  her 
when  he  had  a  decent  home  and  an  honoured 
name  to  offer  her  he  believed  that  he  could 
have  found  happiness  in  her  till  the  end  of 


112          THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

his  life.  Nor,  had  she  loved  him,  would  she 
have  been  influenced  by  worldly  considerations. 
He  had  seen  little  of  women  of  the  great 
normal  middle  class.  Conditions  had  thrown 
him  with  the  very  high  or  the  very  low,  and 
experience  taught  him  that  the  former  when 
unmarried  were  all  angling  for  husbands, 
and  the  latter  for  patrons.  Therefore  had 
he  created  a  world  of  ideal  women  —  one 
secret  of  his  popularity,  for  every  woman  that 
read  his  poems  looked  into  the  poet's  magic 
mirror  and  saw  herself;  and  he  had  found 
happiness  in  creating,  as  poets  must.  Even 
since  his  ostracism  there  had  been  many  hours 
of  sustained  happiness  and  moments  of  rapture 
when  he  had  quite  forgotten  his  position 
among  men.  And  Anne  Percy,  in  her  radiant 
presence,  drove  his  ideals  into  the  shadows 
and  covered  them  with  cobwebs !  And  he  could 
never  claim  her!  Even  were  he  not  a  poor 
broken  creature,  with  little  alive  in  him  but 
that  still  flickering  soul  dwelling  in  his  faded 
unspeakable  body,  he  would  not  even  offer 
the  commonest  attentions  to  this  uncommon 
girl  who  was  worthy  of  the  best  of  men.  Nor 
did  he  wish  to  suffer  any  more  deeply  than  he 
did  at  present.  To  know  her  better  would 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE          113 

be  to  love  her  more.  When  she  left  the  island 
he  hoped  to  relegate  her  to  the  plane  upon 
which  he  dwelt  in  dreams,  and  forget  that  she 
had  not  been  a  created  ideal. 

But  he  was  sometimes  surprised  at  the 
strength  of  his  suffering  and  his  longing.  He 
was  so  unutterably  tired,  had  been  for  years, 
so  weary  in  mind  and  body  through  excess  and 
misery  and  remorse,  so  bitterly  old,  that  he 
was  amazed  there  should  be  moments  when 
he  experienced  the  fleeting  hopes  and  deep 
despair  of  any  other  lover  of  his  years. 
He  left  his  bed  at  night  and  went  out  and 
walked  about  the  island,  or  rowed  until  he 
was  lost  under  the  stars;  he  dreamed  miser- 
ably of  her  over  his  books,  or  hid  in  the  cane 
fields  to  watch  her  swing  by  in  the  early  morn- 
ing, divested  of  that  hideous  hoop-skirt,  and 
unconsciously  mimicking  the  undulating  gait 
of  the  coloured  women  she  passed.  He  had 
replenished  his  wardrobe  and  was  becoming 
as  dandified  as  any  blood  in  Bath  House, 
having  borrowed  from  Hunsdon  against  his 
next  remittance.  And  as  he  was  eating 
regularly  for  the  first  time  in  years  —  less  and 
less  of  the  concoctions  of  his  own  worthless 
servants  —  and  drinking  not  at  all,  there  was 


114          THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

no  doubt  that  he  was  improving  in  appearance 
as  well  as  in  health,  in  vitality.  The  last 
word  rose  in  his  brain  to-day  for  the  first  time. 
Could  it  be  that  this  mortal  lassitude  might 
leave  him,  neck  and  heel?  That  red  blood 
would  run  in  his  veins  once  more  ?  To  what 
end  ?  He  was  none  the  less  disgraced,  none  the 
less  unfit  to  aspire  to  the  hand  of  Anne  Percy. 
Not  only  would  the  world  denounce  her  if 
she  yielded,  but  his  own  self-contempt  was  too 
deep  to  permit  him  to  take  so  much  innocent 
loveliness  to  himself.  But  the  thought  often 
maddened  him,  and  to-day,  as  he  looked  up 
and  caught  her  eyes  fixed  upon  him,  suddenly 
to  be  withdrawn  with  a  deep  blush,  he  had  to 
control  himself  from  abruptly  leaving  the 
church.  More  than  once  he  had  suspected 
an  interest,  which  in  happier  conditions 
might  have  developed  very  rapidly.  There 
was  no  doubt  that  his  work  meant  more  to  her 
than  to  any  woman  he  had  ever  met,  and  he 
was  convinced  that  she  avoided  him  both 
from  a  natural  shrinking  and  because  her 
strong  common  sense  compelled  her  to  see 
him  as  he  was,  forbade  her  imagination  to 
transmute  his  battered  husk  into  the  sem- 
blance of  what  was  left  of  his  better  self.  But 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE          115 

she  could  love  him.  That  was  the  thought  that 
sent  the  blood  to  his  head  and  drove  him  from 
his  pillow. 

But  it  did  not  drive  him  to  brandy.  He 
had  felt  no  temptation  to  drink  since  he  met 
her.  It  was  true  that  before  his  final  down- 
fall he  had  only  felt  the  actual  necessity  of 
stimulant  coincidently  with  the  awakening 
of  his  wondrous  but  strangely  heavy  muse; 
but  during  the  past  five  years  he  had  burnt 
out  tormenting  thoughts  and  remorse  with 
alcohol,  drinking  but  the  more  deeply  when  his 
familiar  throbbed  dully  and  demanded  release. 

He  could  not  look  ahead.  He  had  not  the 
least  idea  what  would  be  the  immediate  result 
of  the  departure  of  Anne  Percy,  his  return  to 
the  loneliness  of  his  home.  With  a  reinvigor- 
ated  body,  and  some  renewal  of  his  faith  in 
woman,  he  might  resist  temptation  if  he  thought 
it  worth  while.  But  the  next  poem?  What 
then  ?  He  had  never  written  a  line  of  serious 
work  except  under  the  influence  of  brandy. 
He  knew  that  he  never  should.  And  with 
nothing  else  to  live  for,  to  forswear  the  muse 
to  whom  he  was  indebted  for  all  the  happiness 
he  had  ever  known  was  too  much  for  God  or 
man  to  ask  of  him. 


116          THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

He  had  been  sitting  tensely,  and  he  suddenly 
leaned  back  and  endeavoured  to  invoke  into 
his  soul  the  peace  that  pervaded  the  house 
of  worship.  The  good  clergyman  was  dron- 
ing, fans  and  silken  skirts  were  rustling,  eyes 
challenging.  But  outside  the  light  wind  was 
singing  in  the  palm  trees,  the  warm  air  entered 
through  the  window  beside  him  laden  with  the 
sweet  perfumes  of  the  tropics.  The  sky  was  as 
blue  as  heaven.  He  reflected  gratefully  that 
at  least  he  had  never  grown  insensible  to  the 
beauty  of  his  island,  never  even  contemplated 
deserting  her  for  either  the  superior  advan- 
tages or  the  superior  dissipations  of  the  great 
world.  To  live  his  life  on  Nevis  and  with 
Anne  Percy!  Oh  God!  He  almost  groaned 
aloud,  and  then  came  to  himself  as  Lady 
Mary  rose  and  extended  the  half  of  her  hymn 
book. 


CHAPTER  XI 

A  S  HE  left  the  church  Hunsdon  took  his  arm, 
•**•  and  begging  Lady  Mary  to  excuse  them 
both,  led  him  down  the  mountain  by  a  side 
path  to  Hamilton  House.  It  was  evident  that 
the  young  nobleman  had  something  on  his 
mind,  but  it  was  not  until  they  were  in 
Warner's  study,  and  he  had  fidgeted  about 
for  a  few  moments  that  he  brought  it  out. 

"Of  course,  old  fellow,  you  divine  that  I 
have  a  favour  to  ask?"  he  said,  growing  very 
red,  and  staring  out  of  the  window. 

Warner,  who  had  seated  himself,  looked 
surprised,  but  replied  that  no  favour  was  too 
great  to  be  asked  by  the  best  of  friends. 
Then  he  wondered  if  Hunsdon  had  guessed 
his  love  for  Anne  Percy  and  was  come  to  warn 
him  from  Bath  House.  With  a  hot  rush  of 
blood  to  the  head  he  almost  hoped  that  the 
favour  was  nothing  less  and  he  might  relieve 
his  overcharged  feelings  by  pitching  Hunsdon 
out  of  the  window. 

But  nothing  could  have  been  so  far  from 

117 


118          THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

Hunsdon's  well-regulated  mind.  He  had 
come  on  a  very  different  errand. 

"The  truth  is  —  well,  my  dear  Byam, 
you  no  doubt  have  seen  how  it  is  with  me,  long 
since.  The  state  of  my  affections.  But  I 
do  not  seem  to  make  much  headway.  Miss 
Percy  is  charming  to  all,  but  the  only  reason 
that  I  sometimes  permit  myself  to  hope  is 
because  she  is  occasionally  rude  to  me. 
I  am  told  that  is  always  a  propitious  sign 
in  females." 

"Do  you  want  me  to  propose  for  you?" 
asked  Warner. 

"Oh,  by  no  means.  I  shall  do  that  myself 
when  I  think  the  moment  is  ripe.  But  it  is 
not,  as  yet.  What  do  you  think?" 

"I  have  not  the  least  idea,  not  being  an 
eavesdropper." 

"Of  course  not,  dear  old  fellow.  And 
naturally  you  do  not  take  much  interest  in 
such  matters.  But  there  are  certain  pre- 
liminary steps  a  man  may  take,  and  as  I  never 
paid  court  to  a  woman  before  I  fear  I  am  not 
as  skilled  as  some.  I  feel  that  you  could 
assist  me  materially." 

"I  have  few  opportunities  of  talking  apart 
with  Miss  Percy,  but  I  am  willing  to  in- 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE          119 

form  her  of  the  high  esteem  in  which  I 
hold  you  - 

"Oh  dear  me  no.  Her  aunt,  I  fear,  does 
too  much  of  that.  Young  women  should  not 
be  antagonised  by  being  made  to  feel  that 
their  relatives  and  friends  are  too  anxious  for 
a  match.  I  fancy  they  are  not  unlike  us, 
the  best  of  them,  in  that  regard.  No,  what 
I  should  like,  what  would  be  of  inestimable 
service  in  my  suit,  would  be  to  have  you  write 
a  sonnet  or  madrigal  to  her  in  my  name,  that 
is  to  say  that  I  could  sign  —  which  would  not 
be  so  good  as  to  betray  the  authorship.  As 
you  know,  many  men  with  no  pretensions 
whatever,  write  odes  and  sonnets  to  their 
fair  ones,  but  I  could  not  even  make  a  rhyme. 
She  does  not  know  that,  however,  and  if  it  were 
not  too  fine,  yet  delicately  nattering  —  I  feel 
sure  that  she  would  be  touched." 

"By  all  means,  my  dear  fellow."  Warner 
almost  laughed  aloud  as  he  wheeled  about 
and  took  up  a  quill.  He  had  no  jealousy  of 
Hunsdon,  knew  that  he  would  never  win 
Anne  Percy ;  but  the  irony  of  inditing  a  sonnet 
to  her  in  the  name  of  another  man  took  away 
his  breath. 

He  wrote  steadily  for  an  hour,  copying  and 


120          THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

polishing,  for  he  was  too  great  an  artist  to 
send  forth  even  an  anonymous  trifle  incom- 
plete in  finish.  Lord  Hunsdon,  who  was  a 
young  man  of  excellent  parts,  took  from  the 
table  a  copy  of  the  De  Augmentis  Scientiarum, 
and  read  diligently  until  Warner  crossed  the 
room  and  handed  him  the  sonnet. 

Hunsdon  was  enraptured,  but  Warner 
refused  to  be  thanked. 

"It  would  be  an  odd  circumstance,"  he 
said  dryly,  "if  I  could  not  do  that  much  for 
you." 

Hunsdon  blushed  furiously.  "Only  one 
thing  more  could  make  me  the  happiest  of 
men,"  he  cried,  with  that  kindling  of  the  eye 
that  in  other  conditions  would  have  developed 
into  a  steady  fanaticism.  "And  when  all 
is  well,  you  must  come  and  live  with  us.  Now 
that  the  world  has  found  you  once  more  I 
feel  that  I  above  all  should  be  held  to  account 
did  you  despise  and  forget  it  again.  I  shall 
not  even  leave  you  behind  when  I  return 
to  England.  Now,  I  must  run  off  and  copy 
this.  Remember,  you  dine  with  us  to-night." 


CHAPTER  XII 

T  ORD  HUNSDON  had  already  bought  an 
•^  album  in  Charlestown,  and  after  copy- 
ing the  sonnet  several  times  to  practise  his 
chirography,  he  inscribed  it  upon  the  first 
page  —  a  pink  one  —  signing  it  "Your  most 
obedient  Hunsdon,"  with  an  austere  flourish. 
Then  he  carefully  wrapped  the  album  in 
tissue  paper  and  sent  it  to  Anne's  room,  with 
strict  orders  to  his  man  not  to  leave  it  unless 
she  were  quite  alone.  The  best  of  men  have 
their  vanities ;  the  idea  that  the  superior  Mary 
Denbigh  or  the  satirical  Miss  Bargarny  might 
witness  the  offering's  arrival  was  insupportable. 
Anne  was  alone  and  unfolded  the  large 
square  package  with  much  curiosity.  It  was 
one  of  those  albums  that  the  young  ladies  of 
her  day  loved  to  possess;  indeed,  so  far,  she 
had  been  the  only  girl  in  Bath  House  without 
one,  and  had  read  the  flattering  verses  in  several 
with  some  envy.  This  tribute  was  sumptu- 
ously bound  in  brown  calf  embossed  with  gold, 

and    all    the    leaves    were    delicately    tinted. 

121 


122          THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

She  turned  over  the  pale  greens  and  pinks, 
blues  and  canaries,  with  that  subtle  indefin- 
able pleasure  that  colour  gives  to  certain 
temperaments.  She  had  not  glanced  at  the 
servant,  and  fancied  the  album  a  present  from 
Lady  Constance.  When  she  saw  the  signature 
on  the  first  page  she  stared,  for  Lord  Huns- 
don  was  the  last  person  she  would  have 
suspected  of  cultivating  the  muse.  She 
began  the  sonnet  with  a  ripple  of  laughter, 
but  paled  before  she  finished.  Trifling  as 
it  was  she  recognised  it  as  the  work  of  Byam 
Warner.  She  could  never  be  mistaken  there. 
It  resembled  nothing  of  his  that  she  knew, 
but  the  grace  of  the  verse,  the  fine  instinctive 
choice  of  words,  the  glitter  and  sweep  of  phrase, 
belonged  to  him  and  none  other.  Her  heart 
leaped  as  she  wondered  if  it  were  not  the  first 
bit  of  verse  he  had  ever  written  while  sober. 
And  she  had  inspired  it !  The  thought  brought 
another  in  its  train  and  she  went  suddenly 
to  her  window  and  stared  through  the  jalousies 
at  the  dazzling  sunlight  on  the  palms,  for  the 
first  time  seeing  nothing  of  the  beauty  of 
Nevis. 

The  poem  had  been  written  from  himself 
to  her.     A  phrase  or  two  not  intended  for 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE          123 

Hunsdon's  unsuspecting  eye  assured  her  of 
that.  It  was  not  an  old  sonnet  furbished  up 
to  fit  the  purpose  of  a  friend.  And  fragile 
as  the  thing  was,  still  it  was  poetry  —  and  he 

had  written  it  when  sober  —  and  to  her 

She  repeated  this  discovery  many  times 
before  she  could  give  shape  to  the  greater 
thought  building  in  her  brain.  It  was  a 
beginning,  a  milestone.  Might  it  not  be 
within  her  compass  to  influence  him  so  in- 
delibly that  his  muse  would  continue  to  wake 
at  her  call,  at  the  mere  thought  of  her,  with 
no  aid  from  that  foul  hag  of  drink,  which  of 
late  had  almost  made  her  hate  his  poetry  as 
the  work  of  a  base  alliance?  She  believed 
that  if  he  did  not  love  her  he  was  yet  so  deep 
in  admiration  that  she  could  inspire  him 
with  a  profound  attachment  if  she  chose. 
And  the  result?  If  only  she  were  a  seer, 
as  certain  of  her  Scotch  kin  claimed  to  be. 
A  hopeless  love  might  inspire  him  to  the 
greater  work  the  world  expected  of  him ;  she 
had  read  of  the  flowering  of  genius  in  the 
strong  soil  of  misery.  But  he  had  suffered 
enough  already,  poor  devil!  The  result  of 
loving  for  the  last  time,  with  no  hope  of 
possession,  might  fling  him  from  Parnassus 


124          THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

into  the  Inferno,  where  he  would  roast  in 
unproductive  torment  for  the  rest  of  his 
mortal  span.  Even  that  might  not  be  for  long. 
He  looked  frail  enough  beside  these  fresh 
young  English  sportsmen,  or  even  the  high- 
coloured  planters,  burnt  without  and  within. 

It  was  a  terrible  question  for  any  woman 
to  be  forced  to  ask,  particularly  were  she 
honest  enough  to  confess  that  no  woman 
should  ask  it.  What  right  had  she  to  put  her 
finger  into  any  man's  destiny  unless  she  were 
willing  to  take  the  consequences  and  share 
that  destiny  if  invited  ?  But  that  no  woman 
could  be  expected  to  do.  Why  could  he 
not  have  realised  her  mental  picture  of  him: 
that  glorified  being  with  whom  she  had 
dwelt  so  long?  She  sighed  as  she  recalled 
her  many  disillusionments  of  the  past  few 
Weeks.  Bath  House  was  the  world  in 
little.  It  seemed  years  since  she  had  left 
Warkworth  Manor.  She  found  that  world 
a  somewhat  mean  and  sordid  place.  She 
still  loved  the  gaiety  and  sumptuousness  of 
her  new  life,  for  it  appealed  to  inherited 
instincts.  But  she  had  not  found  a  respon- 
sive spirit.  The  young  married  women 
were  absorbed  in  their  children  or  their 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE          125 

flirtations.  The  girls  were  superficially  read, 
"accomplished, "conceited,  insincere, with  not 
an  aspiration  above  getting  a  husband  of 
fortune.  Lady  Mary,  alarmed  at  last,  was 
become  cool  and  spiteful.  Lady  Hunsdon 
was  almost  an  enemy.  Lady  Constance 
seemed  to  have  more  heart  than  most  of  her 
ilk  in  spite  of  her  caustic  tongue,  but  she 
hardly  made  a  sympathetic  companion  for  a 
romantic  young  girl  brought  up  in  the  country. 
It  was  true  that  she  had  recently  made  an 
interesting  acquaintance  in  Miss  Medora 
Ogilvy,  the  clever  daughter  of  one  of  the 
planters,  who  vowed  she  loved  her  and  swore 
undying  friendship;  but  Anne  needed  more 
time  to  reciprocate  feelings  so  ardent,  par- 
ticularly in  her  present  state  of  mind. 

On  the  whole  she  liked  the  young  men  bet- 
ter, as  they  were  less  spiteful  and  petty,  but 
they  had  read  little  and  the  only  subject  of 
which,  barring  sport  and  society,  they  had 
any  real  knowledge,  was  politics,  and  this  they 
vowed  too  fatiguing  for  the  tropics.  They 
preferred  the  language  of  compliment,  they 
loved  to  dawdle,  to  hold  a  skein  of  worsted,  to 
read  a  novel  aloud,  or "  The  Yellowplush 
Papers"  or  selections  from  "Boz";  when  tired 


126          THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

of  female  society,  or  when  it  was  too  hot  to 
hunt  or  fish,  they  retired  to  the  gaming  tables. 
Anne  had  never  dreamed  that  the  genus  man 
could  be  so  little  stirring,  and  although  she 
was  flattered  by  their  attentions,  particularly 
by  those  of  Mr.  Abergenny,  and  her  natural 
coquetry  was  often  responsive,  for  mere 
youth  must  have  its  way,  she  was  appalled 
by  her  general  sense  of  disappointment 
and  wondered  what  her  future  was  to  be. 
She  had  no  desire  to  return  to  her 
manor,  and  for  a  season  in  London  she 
cared  as  little.  She  would  have  been  glad  to 
remain  on  Nevis,  but  to  this  she  knew  that 
Mrs.  Nunn  would  not  hearken.  London 
was  inevitable;  and  possibly  she  would  meet 
some  intelligent  and  interesting  man  who 
would  help  her  to  bury  romance  and  fulfil 
the  proper  destiny  of  woman. 

She  wondered  to-day  as  she  had  wondered 
once  or  twice  before,  could  she  have  loved 
Byam  Warner  in  spite  of  his  unlikeness  to 
her  exaggerated  ideal  had  she  found  him  a 
normal  member  of  society,  as  fine  in  appear- 
ance as  his  years  and  his  original  endow- 
ment deserved.  It  was  a  question  to  which 
she  could  find  no  answer,  but  certainly  his 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE          127 

conversation,  could  she  but  permit  herself 
to  enjoy  it,  must  be  far  superior  to  that  of 
anyone  else  on  Nevis.  And  a  flirtation  with 
the  poet  of  the  day  would  have  been  ex- 
citing, something  to  remember,  a  feather  in 
her  cap.  She  had  her  share  of  feminine 
vanity  —  it  grew  daily,  she  fancied  —  and  it 
was  by  no  means  unfed  by  the  manifest 
admiration,  possibly  love,  of  this  great  poet 
in  his  ruin.  Whatever  his  tribute  might  be 
worth,  it  was  offered  to  none  but  herself,  and 
if  the  man  were  beneath  consideration  the 
poet  was  of  a  radiance  undimmed. 

Suddenly  it  occurred  to  her  that  did  he 
tread  his  present  straight  and  hygienic  path 
for  a  full  year  he  might  indeed  be  his  old 
self  when  next  she  came  to  Nevis.  The 
island  was  healthy  at  all  seasons,  those  who 
lived  on  it  were  immune  from  fever.  Nature 
would  remake  what  Warner  had  unmade 
too  early  to  have  destroyed  root  and  sap. 
Many  a  man  had  sown  his  wild  oats  and  lived 
to  a  hale  old  age.  Would  that  mean  that 
next  winter  Byam  Warner  would  be  hand- 
some, attractive,  confident  ?  She  often  heard 
the  good  looks  of  his  youth  referred  to,  and 
there  certainly  were  the  remains  of  beauty 


128          THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

in  that  wrecked  countenance.  His  eyes  were 
sunken,  but  they  were  still  of  a  deep  black 
gray,  and  they  daily  gained  in  brightness. 
His  hair  was  almost  black,  and  abundant. 
The  shape  of  his  head  and  brow  and  profile 
were  above  reproach,  for  dissipation  had  never 
grossened  him.  But  his  face,  although  im- 
proving, was  still  haggard  and  lined  and 
stamped  with  satiety;  his  mouth  betrayed 
the  wild  passions  that  had  wrecked  him,  and 
was  often  drawn  in  lines  of  bitterness  and 
disgust.  There  was  nothing  commanding 
in  his  carriage,  such  as  women  love,  and  his 
manners  were  too  reserved,  too  shy,  to 
fascinate  her  sex  apart  from  the  halo  of  his 
fame.  A  return  to  health  and  vigour  might 
improve  him  vastly,  but  nothing  could  ever 
make  him  a  dashing  romantic  figure;  and 
although  sometimes  a  light  came  into  his 
face  that  revealed  the  poet,  commonly  he 
betrayed  not  an  inkling  of  his  gifts.  But 
even  so  he  might  be  more  worth  while  than 
any  man  she  had  met  so  far,  whatever  the 
great  world  might  have  in  store;  and  she 
wished  that  his  reformation  had  been  accom- 
plished the  winter  before  and  she  were  now 
in  enjoyment  of  the  result.  Then  she  found 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE          129 

distaste  in  the  thought  that  she  might  have 
had  no  hand  in  his  reclamation,  and  was  glad 
to  recall  his  hint  that  but  for  her  he  would 
never  have  crossed  the  threshold  of  Bath 
House.  And  then  she  was  overwhelmed 
with  the  sense  of  her  responsibility.  It  was 
not  for  the  first  time,  but  not  until  to-day  had 
she  faced  the  question  of  how  far  she  ought 
to  go.  And  even  to-day  she  did  not  feel  up 
to  reasoning  it  out.  She  knew  too  little  of 
the  world,  of  men;  there  was  no  one  to  whom 
she  could  go  for  advice.  She  re-read  the 
sonnet,  determined  to  be  guided  by  events, 
registered  a  vow  that  in  no  case  would  she 
shirk  what  she  might  believe  to  be  her  duty; 
and  then  wrote  a  prim  little  note  of  acknowl- 
edgment to  Lord  Hunsdon. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

T  ADY  HUNSDON,  having  in  vain  be- 
•^^  sought  the  poet  to  read  aloud  to  a 
select  audience,  acted  upon  the  hint  he  had 
unwittingly  dropped  to  Anne  Percy  and 
organised  a  charity  performance  for  the  benefit 
of  an  island  recently  devastated  by  earth- 
quake. Warner  was  visibly  out  of  counte- 
nance when  gaily  reminded  by  Anne  of  his 
careless  words,  but  he  could  do  no  less  than 
comply,  for  the  wretched  victims  were  in  want 
of  bread.  Lady  Mary,  Miss  Bargarny,  and 
several  others  offered  their  services.  All 
aristocratic  Nevis  were  invited  to  contribute 
their  presence  and  the  price  of  a  ticket,  and 
the  performance  would  end  with  a  dance  that 
should  outlast  the  night. 

Nevis  was  in  a  great  flutter  of  excitement, 
partly  because  of  the  promised  ball,  for  which 
the  military  band  of  St.  Kitts  was  engaged, 
partly  because  but  a  favoured  few,  and  years 
ago,  had  heard  Byam  Warner  read.  Indeed, 
his  low  voice  was  never  heard  three  yards 

ISO 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE          131 

away,  in  a  drawing-room,  although  it  had 
frequently  made  Charlestown  ring.  He  was 
now  on  his  old  footing  at  the  Great  Houses. 
The  nobler  felt  many  a  pang  of  conscience 
that  they  had  permitted  a  stranger  at  Bath 
House  to  accomplish  a  work  so  manifestly 
their  own,  while  others  dared  not  be  stigma- 
tised as  provincial,  prejudiced,  middle-class. 
If  London  could  afford  a  superb  indifference 
to  the  mere  social  offences  of  a  great  poet, 
well,  so  could  Nevis.  They  forgot  that  Lon- 
don had  arisen  as  one  man  and  flung  him 
out,  neck  and  crop.  Lady  Hunsdon  had 
eclipsed  London;  rather,  for  the  nonce  did 
she  epitomise  it.  Her  gowns  came  not  even 
from  Bond  Street.  They  were  confected  in 
Paris.  Hers  was  the  most  distinguished  Tory 
salon  in  London.  Her  son  was  the  golden 
fish  for  which  all  maidens  fortunate  enough 
to  be  within  reach  of  the  sacred  pond  angled. 
It  was  whispered  that  Warner  would  accom- 
pany Hunsdon  to  London,  be  a  guest  in  his 
several  stately  homes,  possibly  be  returned 
from  one  of  his  numerous  boroughs.  The 
poet  approached  his  zenith  for  the  second  time. 
Curricles,  phaetons,  gigs,  britzskas, 
barouches,  family  chaises  brought  the  elect 


132          THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

of  Nevis,  and  their  guests  from  St.  Kitts  to 
Bath  House  a  little  before  nine  o'clock;  the 
lowly  of  Charlestown  to  the  terrace  before 
the  ever  open  windows  of  the  saloon  where 
the  performance  was  to  be  held.  In  the 
friendly  bedrooms  of  the  hotel  there  was  a 
great  shaking  down  of  skirts,  rearranging  of 
tresses.  Miss  Medora  Ogilvy  went  straight 
to  Anne's  room,  by  invitation,  and  finding 
it  empty,  proceeded  to  beautify  herself. 
Byron  had  been  much  in  vogue  at  the  time 
of  her  birth  —  was  yet,  for  that  matter  — 
and  she  had  been  named  romantically.  But 
there  was  little  romance  in  the  shrewd  brain 
of  Miss  Ogilvy.  She  was  well  educated 
and  accomplished  —  like  many  of  her  kind  she 
had  gone  to  school  in  England;  she  could 
cook  and  manage  even  West  Indian  servants 
—  her  mother  was  an  invalid ;  and  she  wished 
for  nothing  under  heaven  but  to  marry  a  man 
of  "elegant  fortune"  and  turn  her  back  upon 
Nevis  for  ever.  She  really  liked  Anne  and 
thought  her  quite  the  most  admirable  girl  she 
had  ever  met,  but  she  was  not  of  those  that 
deceive  themselves,  and  frankly  admitted  that 
the  chief  attraction  of  her  new  friend  was  her 
almost  constant  proximity  to  Lord  Hunsdon. 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE          133 

Miss  Ogilvy  was  petite,  with  excellent 
features  and  slanting  black  eyes  that  gave  her 
countenance  a  slightly  Oriental  cast.  She  wore 
her  black  hair  in  smooth  bands  over  her  ears, 
a  la  Victoria,  and  her  complexion  was  as 
transparently  white  as  only  a  West  Indian's 
can  be.  To-night  she  pirouetted  before  the 
pier  glass  with  much  complacency.  She  wore 
a  full  flowing  skirt  of  pink  satin,  with  little 
flounces  of  lace  and  rosettes  on  the  front, 
puffed  tight  sleeves,  and  a  corsage  of  white 
illusion,  pink  bands,  flowers,  and  rosettes. 
As  she  settled  a  wreath  of  pink  rosebuds 
on  her  head  and  wriggled  her  shoulders  still 
higher  above  her  bodice,  she  felt  disposed 
to  hum  a  tune.  She  was  but  nineteen  and 
Lady  Mary  was  twenty-nine  if  she  was  a  day. 

Anne,  who  had  been  assisting  Mrs.  Nunn's 
maid  to  adjust  lavender  satin  folds  and  the 
best  point  lace  shawl,  entered  at  the  moment 
and  was  greeted  with  rapture. 

"Dearest  Miss  Percy!  What  a  vision! 
A  Nereid!  A  Lorelei!  You  will  extinguish 
us  all.  Poor  Lord  Hunsdon.  Poor  Mr. 
Warner  —  ah,  ma  belle,  I  have  eyes  in  my 
head.  But  what  a  joy  to  see  you  in  colour. 
How  does  it  happen?" 


134          THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

"  My  aunt  insisted  while  we  were  in  London 
that  I  buy  one  or  two  coloured  gowns.  My 
father  has  been  dead  more  than  a  year.  I 
put  this  on  to-night  to  please  her,  although 
I  have  two  white  evening  gowns." 

She  wore  green  taffeta  flowing  open  in 
front  over  a  white  embroidered  muslin  slip, 
and  trimmed  with  white  fringe.  A  sash 
whose  fringed  ends  hung  down  in  front, 
girt  her  small  waist.  Her  arms  and  neck 
were  bare,  but  slipping  from  the  shoulders, 
carelessly  held  in  the  fashion  of  the  day,  was 
a  white  crepe  scarf  fringed  with  green.  She 
wore  her  hair  in  the  usual  bunch  of  curls 
on  either  side  of  her  face,  but  in  a  higher 
knot  than  usual,  and  had  bound  her  head 
with  the  golden  fillet  Mrs.  Nunn  had 
pressed  upon  her  in  London.  Depending 
from  it  and  resting  on  her  forehead,  was  an 
oblong  emerald;  Anne  had  a  few  family 
jewels  although  she  wore  no  others  to-night. 

"I  vow!"  continued  Miss  Ogilvy,  tripping 
about  her,  "  quite  classic!  And  at  the  same 
time  such  style !  Such  ton!  Madame  Lucille 
made  that  gown.  Am  I  not  right?" 

Anne  confessed  that  Madame  Celeste  had 
made  it. 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE          135 

"Celeste,  I  meant.  How  could  I  be  so 
stupid  ?  But  it  is  two  long  years  since  I  laid 
eyes  on  Bond  Street.  A  humbler  person, 
plain  Mrs.  Barclay,  sends  out  my  gowns. 
What  do  you  think,  dear  Miss  Percy,  shall 
I  look  provincial,  second-rate,  amongst  all 
these  lucky  people  of  fashion?" 

"You  are  lovely  and  your  gown  is  quite 
perfect,"  said  Anne  warmly,  and  then  the 
two  girls  went  down-stairs  arm  in  arm,  vowing 
eternal  friendship.  Miss  Ogilvy  professed 
a  deep  interest  in  the  poet,  declared  that  she 
had  begged  her  obdurate  papa  time  and 
again  to  call  upon  and  reclaim  him;  and 
Anne,  who  now  detested  Lady  Mary,  was 
resolved  to  further  her  new  friend's  interests 
with  Lord  Hunsdon.  He  joined  them  at  the 
foot  of  the  staircase  and  escorted  them  to  a 
little  inner  balcony  above  the  saloon.  There 
was  no  danger  of  interference  from  Lady 
Mary,  who  was  to  perform,  or  from  Lady 
Hunsdon,  who  occupied  the  chair  of  state  in 
the  front  row. 

They  were  late  and  looked  down  upon  a 
brilliant  scene.  Not  even  a  dowager  wore 
black,  and  the  young  women,  married  and 
single,  were  in  every  hue,  primary  and 


136          THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

intermediate.  Almost  as  many  wore  their 
hair  a  la  Victoria  as  in  the  more  becoming 
curls,  for  loyalty,  so  long  dead  and  forgotten, 
was  become  the  rage  since  the  young  Queen 
had  raised  the  corpse.  But  they  softened  the 
severity  of  the  coiffure  with  wreaths,  and 
feathers,  and  fillets,  and  even  coquettish  little 
lace  laps,  filled  with  flowers.  The  men  were 
equally  fine  in  modish  coats  and  satin  waist- 
coats; narrow  and  severe  or  deep  and  ruffled 
neckties  but  one  degree  removed  from  the 
stock,  or  in  flowing  collars  a  la  Byron.  Their 
hair  was  parted  in  the  middle  and  puffed  out 
at  the  side;  not  a  few  wore  a  flat  band  of 
whisker  that  looked  like  the  strap  of  the 
condemned.  Both  Hunsdon  and  Warner 
shaved,  or  Anne  would  have  tolerated  neither. 

There  was  a  platform  at  the  end  of  the 
saloon,  with  curtains  at  the  back  separating 
it  from  a  small  withdrawing-room,  and  it 
had  been  tastefully  embellished  with  rugs, 
jars  of  gorgeous  flowers,  a  reading  stand,  a 
harp  and  a  piano. 

"Who  will  sway  over  the  harp?"  asked 
Miss  Ogilvy  humorously. 

"Lady  Mary.  Ah!  They  are  about  to 
begin." 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE          137 

A  fine  applause  greeted  Miss  Bargarny, 
who  executed  the  overture  to  Semiramide 
quite  as  well  as  it  deserved.  After  the 
clapping  was  over  and  she  had  obligingly 
given  an  encore,  she  remained  at  the  piano, 
and  Mr.  Stewart,  a  young  man  with  red  hair 
and  complexion,  in  kilts  and  pink  knees, 
emerged  from  the  curtains,  and  sang  in  a  thun- 
dering voice  several  of  Burns's  tenderest 
songs.  After  their  final  retirement  the  cur- 
tains were  drawn  apart  with  much  dignity, 
and  Lady  Mary  stepped  forth;  a  vision,  as 
her  severest  critics  were  forced  to  admit. 
She  was  in  diaphanous  white,  with  frosted 
flowers  amidst  her  golden  ringlets,  a  little 
crown  of  stars  above  her  brow,  and  a  scarf 
of  silver  tissue. 

"All  she  needs  is  wings!"  exclaimed  Miss 
Ogilvy,  and  added  to  herself,  "may  she  soon 
get  them!" 

Lady  Mary,  acknowledging  the  rapturous 
greeting  with  a  seraphic  expression  and  the 
grand  air,  literally  floated  to  the  harp,  where 
nothing  could  have  displayed  to  a  greater 
advantage  her  long  willowy  figure,  her  long 
white  thin  arms,  the  drooping  gold  of  her 
ringlets.  As  the  golden  music  tinkled  from 


138          THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

the  tips  of  her  taper  fingers  —  formed  for 
the  harp,  which  may  have  had  somewhat 
to  do  with  her  choice  of  instrument  —  her 
ethereal  loveliness  swayed  in  unison,  and, 
one  might  fancy  —  if  not  a  rival  —  emitted 
a  music  of  its  own. 

"She  doesn't  look  a  day  over  twenty!" 
exclaimed  Miss  Ogilvy.  "Who  would  dream 
that  she  was  thirty  ?  But  those  fragile  crea- 
tures break  all  at  once.  When  she  does 
fade  she  will  be  even  more  passee  than  most." 

"  But  women  know  so  many  arts  nowadays," 
said  Anne  drily.  "And  she  would  be  the  last 
to  ignore  them." 

"Ah!  no  doubt  she  will  hang  on  till  she  gets 
a  husband.  I  never  knew  anyone  to  want 
one  so  badly." 

"Lady  Mary?"  asked  Hunsdon  wonder- 
ingly.  "I  had  long  since  grown  to  look 
upon  her  as  a  confirmed  old  maid." 

"La!  La!  my  lord!"  Miss  Ogilvy  sud- 
denly resolved  upon  a  bold  stroke.  "She's 
trying  with  all  her  might  and  main  to  marry 
your  own  most  intimate  friend." 

"My  most  intimate  friend?  He  is  in 
England.  Nottingdale.  Do  you  know  him  ? 
Or  do  you  perchance  mean  Warner?" 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE          139 

"Never  heard  of  the  first  and  it  certainly 
is  not  the  last.  Oh,  my  lord!"  And  then 
she  laughed  so  archly  that  poor  Lord  Huns- 
don  could  not  fail  to  read  her  meaning.  His 
fresh  coloured  face,  warm  with  ascending 
heat,  turned  a  deep  brick  red.  He  felt 
offended  with  both  Miss  Ogilvy  and  Lady 
Mary,  and  edged  closer  to  Anne  as  if  for 
protection. 

This  conversation  took  place  while  Lady 
Mary  was  bowing  in  response  to  the  plaudits 
her  performance  evoked.  She  tinkled  out 
another  selection,  and  then,  with  a  gently 
dissenting  gesture,  the  dreaming  eyes  almost 
somnambulistic,  floated  through  the  curtains. 

There  was  a  brief  interval  for  rapturous 
vocatives  and  then  the  curtains  were  flung 
apart  and  Spring  burst  through,  crying, 

"I  come!  I  come!  Ye  have  called  me  long. 
I  come  o'er  the  mountains  with  light  and  song! 
Ye  may  trace  my  step  o'er  the  wakening  earth 
By  the  winds  that  tell  of  the  violet's  birth. " 

The  young  lady,  attired  in  white  and 
hung  with  garlands,  looked  not  unlike  the 
engraving  of  "Spring"  in  the  illustrated 
editions  of  the  poems  of  the  gentle  Felicia. 
For  a  moment  Anne,  who  had  long  outgrown 


140          THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

Mrs.  Hemans,  was  disposed  to  laugh,  but  as 
the  sweet  ecstatic  voice  trilled  on  a  wave  of 
sadness  swept  over  her,  a  familiar  scene  of 
her  childhood  rose  and  effaced  the  one 
beneath.  She  saw  the  favourite  room  of  her 
mother  in  the  tower  overhanging  the  sea, 
her  brothers  sprawled  on  the  hearthrug, 
herself  in  her  own  little  chair,  her  mother 
in  her  deep  invalid  sofa  holding  her  youngest 
child  in  her  arms,  while  she  softly  recited  the 
"Evening  Prayer  at  a  Girl's  School,"  "The 
Coronation  of  Inez  del  Castro,"  "Juana, " 
or,  to  please  the  more  robust  taste  of  the 
boys,  "Bernardo  del  Carpio,"  and  "Cas- 
abianca,"  the  last  two  in  sweet  inadequate 
tones.  Lines,  long  forgotten  swept  back  to 
Anne  out  of  the  past: 

The  night  wind  shook  the  tapestry  round  an  ancient  palace 

room, 
And    torches,    as    it    rose    and    fell,    wared    through    the 

gorgeous  gloom. 

There  was  music  on  the  midnight — 
From  a  royal  fane  it  rolled. 

The  warrior  bowed  his  crested  head,  rfhd  tamed  his  heart  of 

fire, 
And  sued  the  haughty  king  to  free  his  long  imprisoned  sire. 

Mrs.  Percy  had  been  a  gentle,  sentimental* 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE          141 

romantic  creature  with  golden  ringlets  and 
floating  sylph-like  form,  not  unlike  Lady 
Mary's.  She  received  little  attention  from 
her  scientific  husband  and  devoted  her  short 
life  to  her  children  and  to  poetry,  writing 
graceful  vacant  verses  herself.  Mrs.  Hemans 
was  her  favourite  poet,  although  her  eyes 
could  kindle  when  she  read  "The  Corsair," 
or  "The  Bride  of  Arbydos,"  particularly  as 
she  had  once  met  Byron  and  remembered 
him  as  the  handsomest  of  mortals.  But 
she  would  have  thought  it  indecorous  even 
to  mention  his  name  before  her  young  children. 
Mrs.  Hemans  was  as  much  a  part  of  the 
evening  hour  in  winter  as  the  dusk  and  the 
blazing  logs,  and  the  children  loved  her 
almost  as  well  as  the  gentle  being  who  re- 
newed her  girlhood  in  those  romantic  effusions, 
A  malignant  fever  raging  up  the  coast,  had 
burnt  out  that  scene  for  ever,  leaving  Anne 
alone  and  aghast,  for  her  father,  the  first 
horror  and  remorse  over,  subsided  once  more 
into  his  laboratory.  Then  had  come  a  suc- 
cession of  governesses;  finally  the  library 
was  discovered;  she  ceased  to  miss  her 
old  companions.  But  she  never  forgot  them, 
and  no  doubt  the  sweetness  and  melancholy 


142          THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

of  the  memory  did  as  much  as  the  imaginary 
Byam  Warner  to  save  her  from  the  fate  of 
her  dry  dehumanised  father. 

Anne  came  to  herself  as  a  charade  progressed, 
and  Miss  Ogilvy  gaily  commented  upon  the 
interpretation  of  the  middle  syllable  of  Cater- 
pillar, as  A,  in  the  architecture  of  which  one 
of  the  handsomest  girls  and  her  swain 
made  a  striking  silhouette.  Then  she  re- 
membered that  the  next  name  on  theprogramme 
was  Warner's ;  he  was  to  read  for  half  an  hour 
from  his  own  work;  after  which  all  would  hie 
to  the  music  room  and  dance. 

There  was  a  longer  interval  than  usual. 
Anne's  hands  and  feet  became  nerveless  bits 
of  ice.  Had  his  courage  given  out?  Had 
he  run  away?  Worse  still,  was  he  nerving 
himself  to  an  ordeal  to  which  he  would  prove 
unequal?  A  humiliating  breakdown!  Anne's 
blood  pounded  through  her  body  as  he  finally 
emerged  from  the  curtains,  and  she  broke  her 
fan,  much  to  the  amusement  of  Miss  Ogilvy. 

The  company,  although  it  had  once  or  twice 
permitted  its  applause  to  go  beyond  the  bounds 
prescribed  by  elegant  civility,  had  reserved 
its  real  enthusiasm  for  the  poet  whose  halo 
of  present  fashion  electrified  its  springs  of 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE          143 

Christianity.  As  he  entered,  correctly  attired, 
although  more  soberly  than  most  of  his 
audience,  and  walked  slowly  to  the  reading 
stand,  they  not  only  clapped  but  stamped 
and  cried  his  name  until  the  walls  resounded; 
and  so  excited  the  coloured  people  (with 
whom  his  popularity  had  never  waned) 
that  a  stentorian  chorus  burst  through  the 
windows  and  drowned  the  more  polite  if  no 
less  ardent  greeting  of  the  elect. 

Warner  blushed  faintly  and  bent  his  head 
in  acknowledgment,  but  otherwise  gave  no 
sign  of  the  astonishment  he  must  feel,  and 
stood  quite  still  until  the  noise  had  died  away 
down  to  its  final  echo  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
the  palm  avenue.  When  he  finally  lifted  his 
book  a  sudden  breathless  silence  fell  upon  the 
company.  Anne  leaned  over  the  railing  in 
almost  uncontrollable  excitement,  her  face 
white,  her  breath  short.  Lord  Hunsdon  was 
too  agitated  himself  to  observe  her,  but  the 
unaffected  Miss  Ogilvy  took  note  and  matured 
plans. 

Warner  began  to  read  in  his  low,  toneless, 
but  distinct  voice.  In  a  few  moments  the 
excitement  subsided;  he  was  pronounced  in- 
sufferably monotonous.  Fans  rustled,  hoops 


144          THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

scraped  the  hard  floors.  Lady  Constance 
gave  a  loud  admonitory  cough.  Warner  paid 
no  heed.  Still  he  read  on  in  low  monotone. 
A  few  moments  more  and  its  spell  had 
enmeshed  the  company.  The  silence  was  so 
deep  that  the  low  murmur  of  the  sea  could 
be  heard  beyond  (or  within)  his  own  voice. 
The  most  impatient,  the  most  vehement, 
raised  significant  eyebrows  and  shot  out 
optical  affirmations  that  nothing  could  be 
more  effective  than  the  verbal  method  the 
poet  had  adopted  —  although  doubtless  it 
was  quite  his  own,  so  in  keeping  was  it  with 
his  reserved,  retiring,  non-committal  person- 
ality. Be  that  as  it  may,  the  dramatic 
scenes,  the  impassioned  phrases,  the  virile 
original  vocabulary  that  flowed  from  his  set 
lips  could  never  be  delivered  so  potently  by 
tones  that  matched  their  tenor.  The  con- 
trast flung  them  into  undreamed  of  relief. 
Those  most  familiar  with  his  work  wondered 
that  they  had  never  understood  it  before. 

Anne  felt  more  than  all  this.  She  closed 
her  eyes  and  enjoyed  a  delusion.  It  was  the 
soul  of  the  poet  reading.  The  body  there 
was  but  a  fallacy  of  vision,  non-existent, 
really  dead,  perhaps;  subservient  for  a  while 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE          145 

longer  to  that  imperious  immortal  part  that 
had  not  yet  fulfilled  its  earthly  mission.  She 
had  allowed  herself  to  believe  that  she  had 
caught  fleeting  glimpses  of  this  man's  soul, 
so  different  from  his  battered  clay;  to-night 
she  heard  it,  and  heard  as  she  never  did  by 
the  North  Sea  when  all  her  world  was  one 
vast  delusion.  It  murmured  like  the  sea 
itself,  the  gray  cold  sea  of  some  strange  dark 
planet  beyond  the  stars,  whence  came,  who 
knew?  all  genius;  a  sea  whose  tides  would 
rise  high  and  higher  until  they  exhausted 
the  clay  they  beat  upon  while  they  had  yet 
a  message  to  deliver  to  Earth.  That  clay! 
If  it  could  but  be  preserved  a  few  years 
longer!  Great  as  was  his  accomplished  work 
he  must  do  greater  yet.  No  student  of  his  more 
ambitious  poems,  half  lyric,  half  dramatic, 
believed  his  powers  were  yet  developed. 

Anne  came  to  herself  amidst  a  new  thunder 
of  applause.  She  told  herself  with  a  sigh  and 
an  angry  blush  that  she  was  a  romantic  idiot 
and  the  sooner  she  married  and  had  a  little 
family  to  think  of  the  better.  Heaven  knew 
what  folly  she  might  be  capable  of  did  she 
give  rein  to  dreams.  She  became  aware 
that  Warner,  compelled  to  silence,  was  look- 


146          THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

ing  straight  at  her,  and  she  automatically 
beat  her  hands  together.  He  smiled  slightly 
and  gave  his  head  an  almost  imperceptible 
shake.  Then  some  one  in  the  audience  called 
for  the  popular  poem  in  which  he  had  so 
vigorously  denounced  Macaulay's  unjust 
estimate  of  Byron  a  few  years  since,  holding 
up  to  scorn  the  brain  of  the  mere  man  of  letters 
who  dared  to  criticise  or  even  to  attempt  to 
understand  the  abnormal  brain  and  tempera- 
ment of  a  great  poet.  He  recited  it  from 
memory  and  then  retired  followed  by  a  tumult 
of  approval  that  he  well  knew  he  never  should 
evoke  again. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

"IKTHEN  Anne  descended  the  company 
was  streaming  toward  the  music 
room,  whence  issued  the  rich  summons  of  a 
full  military  band.  She  manoeuvred  so  well 
that  Lord  Hunsdon  led  out  Miss  Ogilvy  for 
the  first  dance,  and  sat  down  beside  Mrs. 
Nunn,  hoping  that  Warner  would  summon 
courage  to  take  the  empty  chair  beside  her. 
Her  pulses  beat  high  with  excitement  and 
delight  in  his  triumph,  and  she  longed  to  show 
him  recklessly  for  once  the  admiration  and  the 
faith  she  had  taken  care  to  conceal  under  a 
correctly  flattering  manner.  But  Warner 
stood  talking  with  a  group  of  men,  and  even 
could  he  have  ignored  a  sudden  imperious 
beckoning  of  Lady  Hunsdon's  fan  he  would 
have  been  too  late.  With  one  of  those  con- 
certed impulses  to  which  men  no  less  than 
women  are  subject,  the  young  bloods  of  Bath 
House,  the  moment  they  saw  Anne  Percy 
radiant  in  colour,  with  an  even  deeper  blush 
and  brighter  eyes  than  usual,  determined  that 

147 


148          THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

she  and  she  alone  should  be  the  belle  of  the 
evening.  She  had  hardly  seated  herself  when 
she  was  surrounded,  she  was  besieged  for 
dances;  and  in  spite  of  her  protests  that  she 
had  never  danced  save  with  her  governesses, 
she  found  herself  whirling  about  the  room  in 
the  arm  of  Mr.  Abergenny,  and  followed  by 
many  an  angry  eye.  Abergenny  might  be 
untitled  and  less  of  a  "catch"  than  Lord  Huns- 
don,  but  he  had  far  more  dash,  manner,  and 
address ;  he  possessed  a  fine  property,  if  some- 
what impaired  by  high  living,  and  was  a  man 
of  note  and  fashion  in  London.  His  word 
alone  had  stamped  more  than  one  ambitious 
beauty  for  good  or  ill,  and  this  was  not  the 
first  time  that  he  had  intimated  his  entire 
approval  of  Miss  Percy.  Anne  guessed  that 
his  intentions  were  never  serious,  but  he  had 
amused  her  more  than  the  others,  and  since 
she  must  know  the  world,  doubtless  she  should 
be  grateful  for  tutelage  so  able. 

Although  trembling  and  suffused  with  terri- 
fied blushes,  all  her  old  shyness  in  possession, 
Mr.  Abergenny  was  so  admirable  a  partner, 
he  gave  her  so  many  courteous  hints,  he  kept 
her  so  persistently  in  the  thick  of  the  dancing, 
where  critical  eyes  could  hardly  follow  her, 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE          149 

that  her  confidence  not  only  returned,  but 
before  she  had  completed  the  circuit  of  the 
room  three  times  she  was  vastly  enjoying  her- 
self. She  danced  round  and  square  dances 
with  her  various  admirers  for  the  next  hour, 
and  when  the  country  dance  was  at  its  height 
she  found  herself  tripping  alone  between  the 
long  files  with  no  return  of  bashfulness  and  no 
less  grace  than  Lady  Mary  herself;  forgetting 
that  there  could  be  no  better  preparation  for 
grace  in  the  ball-room  than  years  of  free  exer- 
cise out  of  doors. 

She  abandoned  herself  to  the  new  and 
unanticipated  pleasure,  and  not  only  of  danc- 
ing but  of  being  the  acknowledged  belle  of 
the  night.  Beyond  the  intoxication  of  the 
moment  nothing  existed.  Once  indeed,  she 
met  Warner's  eyes,  and  they  flashed  with 
surprise  and  rage,  but  she  forgot  him  and 
danced  until  even  her  strong  frame  could 
stand  no  more,  and  she  went  to  bed  with  the 
dawn  and  slept  till  afternoon. 


CHAPTER  XV 

"pvEPRESSED  with  reaction  and  heavy 
-*— *  with  unwonted  sleeping  by  daylight, 
she  was  glad  to  go  from  her  dressing-table  to 
the  carriage  waiting  to  take  herself  and  her 
aunt  for  the  customary  drive.  It  was  but  a 
moment  before  her  mind  was  startled  into 
its  accustomed  activity. 

"Mr.  Warner  has  disappeared  again."  Mrs. 
Nunn  tilted  her  lace  parasol  against  the  slant- 
ing sun.  "Poor  Maria!" 

"Disappeared?" 

"That  is  the  general  interpretation. 
Maria,  with  whom  he  was  to  dine  to-night, 
received  a  note  from  him  this  morning  asking 
to  be  excused  as  he  was  going  away  for  some 
time;  and  when  Hunsdon  rushed  down  to 
Hamilton  House  —  unshaved  and  without  his 
plunge  —  he  was  told  that  the  poet  wras  gone ; 
none  of  the  servants  could  say  where  nor  when 
he  would  return.  So  that  is  probably  the  last 
of  the  reformed  poet.  I  suppose  last  night's 
excitement  proved  too  much  for  him." 

150 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE          151 

Anne's  feeling  was  almost  insupportable,  but 
she  forced  her  tone  into  the  register  which 
Miss  Bargarny  and  her  kind  would  employ  to 
express  lively  detached  regret.  'That  would 
be  quite  dreadful,  and  most  ungrateful.  But 
I  do  not  believe  —  anything  of  the  sort.  No 
doubt  all  that  reading  of  his  own  work  stirred 
his  muse  and  he  has  shut  himself  up  to  write." 

"Well,  as  he  always  shuts  himself  up  with 
a  quart  of  brandy  at  the  same  time,  that  is 
equally  the  end  of  him  as  far  as  we  are  con- 
cerned. For  my  part  I  have  never  been  able 
to  make  out  what  all  of  you  find  in  him  to 
admire.  He  would  be  quite  ordinary  to  look 
at  if  it  were  not  for  a  few  good  lines,  and  I 
never  heard  him  utter  a  remark  worth  listening 
to.  And  as  for  fashion!  Compare  him  last 
night  with  Lord  Hunsdon  or  Mr.  Abergenny!" 

"I  think  myself  he  made  a  mistake  not  to 
appear  in  a  rolling  collar  and  a  Turkish  coat 
and  turban!  I  don't  fancy  that  he  emulates 
Lord  Hunsdon  or  Mr.  Abergenny  in  anything." 

"At  least  not  in  devotion  to  you,  so  you  will 
not  miss  him.  And  you  have  nothing  to  regret, 
if  he  was  the  fashion  —  thanks  to  Maria  — 
for  awhile;  a  young  girl  should  never  suffer 
detrimentals  to  hang  about  her.  Which  of 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 


your  beaux  do  you  fancy  most  ?"  she  demanded 
in  a  tone  elaborately  playful. 

"Which  ?  Oh,  Lord  Hunsdon  is  the  better 
man,  and  Mr.  Abergenny  the  better  beau." 

"I  don't  fancy  that  Mr.  Abergenny's  atten- 
tions are  ever  very  serious,"  said  Mrs.  Nunn 
musingly.  "He  certainly  could  make  any 
young  lady  the  fashion,  but  he  is  fickle  and 
must  marry  fortune.  But  Hunsdon  —  he  is 
quite  independent,  and  as  steady  as  ' 
she  glanced  about  in  search  of  a  simile, 
remembered  West  Indian  earthquakes,  and 
added  lamely  —  "as  the  Prince  Consort  him- 
self." Then  she  felt  that  the  inspiration 
had  been  a  happy  one,  and  continued  with 
more  animation  than  was  her  wont:  'You 
know  they  are  really  friendly." 

"Who?" 

"The  Prince  Consort  and  Hunsdon.  It  is 
almost  an  intimacy." 

"Why  not?  I  suppose  a  prince  must  have 
friends  like  other  people,  and  there  are  not 
many  of  his  rank  in  England.  I  do  not  see 
how  the  Prince  Consort  could  do  better  than 
Hunsdon.  The  Queen  certainly  must  ap- 
prove." 

"I  am  glad  you  10  warmly  commend  Huns- 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE          153 

don.  I  have  the  highest  respect  for  him 
myself  —  the  very  greatest." 

"If  you  mean  that  you  wish  me  to  marry 
him,  Aunt  Emily  --  have  you  ever  reflected 
that  it  might  cool  your  friendship  with  Lady 
Hunsdon?  She  does  not  like  me  and  I  am 
sure  would  oppose  the  match.  I  may  add, 
however,  that  Lord  Hunsdon  has  so  far  made 
no  attempt  to  address  me." 

"I  don't  fancy  you  are  more  blind  than 
everybody  else  in  Bath  House.  I  am  grati- 
fied, indeed,  to  see  that  you  are  not.  You 
are  mistaken  in  thinking  that  your  marriage 
with  Hunsdon  would  affect  my  friendship  with 
Maria.  It  is  true  that  she  has  conceived  the 
notion  that  you  have  an  independent  spirit, 
and  is  in  favour  of  Mary  Denbigh  at  present; 
but  she  is  too  much  a  woman  of  the  world  not 
to  accept  the  inevitable.  And  we  have  been 
friends  for  five-and-forty  years.  She  could  not 
get  along  without  me.  I  have  not  been  idle 
in  this  matter.  I  sing  your  praises  to  her, 
assure  her  that  you  have  never  crossed  my 
will  in  anything.  Last  night  I  told  her  how 
sweetly  you  had  submitted  to  buying  that 
coloured  gown,  and  to  wear  that  fillet  -  -  it 
becomes  you  marvellously  well.  I  have  also 


154          THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

told  her  what  a  tractable  daughter  you 
were." 

"I  couldn't  help  myself.  I  had  not  a 
penny  of  my  own 

"One  of  the  unwritten  laws  of  the  world 
you  now  live  in  is  to  tell  the  least  of  all  you 
know.  The  fact  remains.  You  were  tract- 
able —  submissive.  You  never  made  a  scene 
for  poor  Harold  in  your  life." 

"He  would  n't  have  known  if  I  had." 

"Well,  well,  I  am  sure  you  are  submissive, 
and  always  will  be  when  your  interest  demands 
it.  I  admire  a  certain  amount  of  spirit,  and 
your  difference  from  all  these  other  girls, 
whatever  it  is,  makes  you  very  attractive 
to  the  young  men.  Abergenny  says  that  you 
are  an  out-of-door  goddess,  which  I  think 
very  pretty;  but  on  the  whole  I  prefer  Huns- 
don's  protest:  that  you  are  the  most  womanly 
woman  he  ever  set  eyes  on." 

"  It  has  more  sense.  I  never  read  in  any 
mythology  of  indoor  goddesses.  Opinion 
seems  to  differ,  however.  Lady  Mary  said 
to  me  yesterday:  'You  are  so  masculine, 
dear  Miss  Percy.  You  make  us  all  look  the 
merest  females ! ' 

"  Mary  Denbigh  is  a  cat.     You  know  she  is 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE          155 

a  cat.  She  would  give  Maria  many  a  scratch 
if  she  caught  Hunsdon.  But  she  will  not. 
It  is  all  in  your  own  hands,  my  dear." 

Anne  did  not  make  the  hoped  for  response. 
She  did  not  even  blush,  and  Mrs.  Nunn  con- 
tinued, anxiety  creeping  into  her  voice:  "You 
need  never  be  much  thrown  with  Maria.  She 
would  settle  herself  in  the  dower  house  which 
is  almost  as  fine  as  Hunsdon  Towers.  In  town 
she  has  her  own  house  in  Grosvenor  Square. 
Hunsdon  House  in  Piccadilly  —  one  of  the 
greatest  mansions  in  London  —  would  be  all 
your  own." 

But  she  could  not  command  the  attention 
of  her  niece  again,  and  permitting  herself  to 
conclude  that  the  maiden  was  lost  in  a  pleasing 
reverie,  she  subsided  into  silence,  closed  her 
eyes  to  the  beauty  of  land  and  sea,  and  also 
declined  into  reverie,  drowsy  reverie  in  which 
pictures  of  herself  in  all  the  glory  of  near  kin- 
ship to  a  beautiful  and  wealthy  young  peeress, 
were  mixed  with  speculations  upon  her  pos- 
sible luck  at  cards  that  night.  She  had  lost 
heavily  of  late  and  it  was  time  she  retrieved 
her  fortunes. 

At  dinner  and  in  the  saloon  later  the  talk 
was  all  of  the  poet's  disappearance,  Some 


156          THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

held  out  for  the  known  eccentricities  of  genius, 
others  avowed  themselves  in  favour  of  the 
theory  that  respectable  society  had  risen  to  its 
surfeit  the  night  before.  The  natural  reaction 
had  set  in  and  he  was  enjoying  himself  once 
more  in  his  own  way  and  wondering  that  he 
had  submitted  to  be  bored  so  long.  Anne 
went  to  bed  her  mind  a  chaos  of  doubt  and 
terror. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

OHE  would  have  overslept  again  had  it 
not  been  for  the  faithful  maid  with  her 
coffee.  She  sprang  out  of  bed  at  once,  a 
trifle  disburdened  by  the  thought  of  a  long 
ramble  alone  in  the  early  morning,  and,  post- 
poning her  swim  in  the  tanks  below  until  her 
return,  dressed  so  hurriedly  that  had  hats  been 
in  vogue  hers  no  doubt  would  have  gone  on 
back  foremost.  She  was  feverishly  afraid 
of  being  intercepted,  although  such  a  thing 
had  never  occurred,  the  other  women  being 
far  too  elegant  to  rise  so  early,  and  a  proper 
sense  of  decorum  forbidding  the  young  men 
to  offer  their  escort. 

The  sea  had  never  been  a  stiller,  hotter  blue, 
the  mountain  more  golden,  the  sky  more  like 
an  opening  rose.  But  she  strode  on  seeing 
nothing.  Sleep  had  given  her  no  rest  and  she 
was  in  a  torment  of  spirit  that  was  a  new 
experience  in  her  uneventful  life.  She  recalled 
the  angry  astonished  eyes  of  Warner  as  she 
danced  with  all  the  abandon  of  a  girl  at  her 

157 


158          THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

first  ball.  No  doubt  he  had  thought  her  vain 
and  frivolous,  the  average  young  lady  at 
whose  approach  he  fled  when  he  could.  No 
doubt  he  thought  her  in  love  with  Abergenny, 
whose  habit  of  turning  female  heads  was  well 
known  to  him,  and  upon  whom  she  had  cer- 
tainly beamed  good  will.  No  doubt  he  had 
expected  her  to  manage  to  pass  him,  knowing 
his  diffidence,  and  offer  her  congratulations; 
whereas  she  had  taken  no  notice  of  him  what- 
ever. No  doubt  —  oh,  no  doubt  —  he  had 
rushed  off  in  a  fury  of  disappointment  and 
disgust,  and  all  the  good  work  of  the  past 
weeks  had  been  undone,  all  her  plans  of 
meeting  him  a  year  hence  as  handsome  and 
fine  a  man  as  he  had  every  right  to  be,  were 
frustrated.  She  had  for  some  time  past 
detected  signs  that  apathy  was  gradually 
relieving  a  naturally  fine  spirit  of  its  heavy 
burden,  that  his  weary  indifference  was  giving 
place  to  a  watchful  alertness,  which  in  spite 
of  the  old  mask  he  continued  to  wear,  occa- 
sionally manifested  itself  in  a  flash  of  the  eye 
or  a  quiver  of  the  nostril.  Anne  could  not 
doubt  that  he  loved  her,  inexperienced  in  such 
matters  as  she  might  be.  However  she  may 
have  kept  him  at  a  distance  her  thoughts  had 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE          159 

seldom  left  him,  and  he  had  betrayed  himself 
in  a  hundred  ways. 

Had  she  been  half  interested  in  Hunsdon  or 
Abergenny  and  they  had  been  so  unreasonable 
as  to  rush  off  and  disappear  merely  because 
she  had  enjoyed  her  first  ball-room  triumphs 
as  any  girl  must,  she  would  have  been  both 
derisive  and  angry  at  the  liberty;  but  Warner 
inspired  no  such  feminine  ebullition.  He 
was  a  great  and  sacred  responsibility,  one, 
moreover,  that  she  had  assumed  voluntarily. 
That  he  had  unexpectedly  fallen  in  love  with 
her  but  deepened  this  responsibility,  and  she 
had  betrayed  her  trust,  she  had  betrayed  her 
trust! 

She  left  the  road  suddenly  and  struck  up- 
ward into  one  of  the  sheltered  gorges,  sat 
down  in  the  shadow  of  the  jungle  and  wept 
with  the  brief  violence  of  a  tropical  storm  in 
summer.  Relief  was  inevitable.  When  the 
paroxism  was  over  she  found  a  shaded  seat 
under  a  cocoanut  tree  and  determined  not  to 
return  to  the  hotel  for  breakfast,  nor  indeed 
until  she  felt  herself  able  to  endure  the  sight 
of  mere  people;  and  endeavoured  to  expel 
all  thought  of  Warner  from  her  still  tormented 
mind.  In  the  distance  she  could  see  Mon- 


160          THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

serrat  and  Antigua,  gray  blurs  on  the  blue 
water,  she  could  hear  the  singing  of  negroes 
in  the  cane  fields  far  away,  but  near  her  no 
living  thing  moved  save  the  monkeys  in  the 
tree  tops,  the  blue  butterflies,  the  jewelled 
humming-birds.  On  three  sides  of  her  was 
a  dense  growth  of  banana,  cocoanut  and  palm 
trees,  cactus,  and  a  fragrant  shrub  covered 
with  pink  flowers.  Almost  overhanging  her 
was  the  collar  of  forest  about  the  cone,  and 
the  ever-faithful  snow-white  cloud  that  only 
left  the  brow  of  Nevis  to  creep  down  and 
embrace  her  by  night.  She  took  off  her 
bonnet  and  wished  as  she  had  rarely  done 
before  that  she  might  never  leave  this  warm 
fragrant  poetic  land.  It  was  made  for  such 
as  she,  whose  whole  nature  was  tuned  to 
poetry  and  romance,  even  if  denied  the  gift  of 
expression  —  or  of  consummation!  Why 
should  she  not  remain  here  ?  She  had  some 
money,  quite  enough  to  rent  or  even  build  a 
little  house  in  one  of  these  high  solitudes, 
where  she  could  always  look  from  her  window 
and  see  the  sapphire  sea,  that  so  marvellously 
changed  to  chrysoprase  near  the  silver  palm- 
fringed  shore,  inhale  these  delicious  scents, 
and  dream  and  dream  in  this  caressing  air. 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE          161 

She  hated  the  thought  of  London.  The  world 
had  no  real  call  for  her.  She  wondered  at  her 
submission  to  the  will  of  a  woman  who  had 
not  the  least  comprehension  of  her  nature. 
On  Nevis  would  she  stay,  live  her  own  life, 
find  happiness  in  beauty  and  solitude,  since 
the  highest  happiness  was  not  for  her;  and  at 
this  point  she  heard  a  step  in  the  jungle. 

She  sprang  to  her  feet  startled,  but  even 
before  the  heavy  leaves  parted  she  knew  that 
it  was  Warner.  When  he  stood  before  her  he 
lifted  his  hat  politely  and  dropped  it  on  the 
ground,  and  although  he  did  not  smile  he 
certainly  was  sober. 

The  relief,  the  reaction,  was  so  great  that 
the  blood  rushed  to  Anne's  brow,  the  tears 
to  her  eyes.  She  made  no  attempt  to  speak  at 
once  and  he  looked  at  her  in  silence.  Per- 
haps it  was  the  mountain  solitude  that  gave 
his  spirit  greater  freedom;  perhaps  it  was 
merely  the  effect  of  the  beneficial  regime  of  the 
past  two  months;  there  might  be  another 
reason  less  easy  of  analysis ;  but  she  had  never 
seen  him  so  assured,  so  well,  so  much  a  man 
of  his  own  world.  His  shoulders  were  quite 
straight,  his  carriage  was  quite  erect,  there 
was  colour  in  his  face  and  his  eyes  were  bright. 


162          THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

Nor  did  the  haunted,  tormented  expression 
she  had  so  often  seen  look  out  at  her.  These 
were  the  eyes  of  a  man  who  had  returned  to 
his  place  among  men.  He  looked  young, 
buoyant. 

She  spoke  finally.  "I  —  we  all  thought  — 
you  disappeared  so  abruptly  —  what  am  I 
saying?" 

:<You  believed  that  I  had  returned  to  the 
pit  out  of  which  you  —  you  alone,  mind  you  — 
had  dragged  me.  You  might  have  known 
me  better." 

"You  should  not  put  such  a  burden  on  me. 
You  have  character  enough 

"  Oh  yes,  I  had  character  enough,  but  doubt- 
less you  noticed  when  you  first  met  me  that 
I  had  ceased  to  exercise  it.  I  went  to  the 
dogs  quite  deliberately,  and,  with  my  enfeebled 
will  and  frame,  I  should  have  stayed  there, 
had  not  you  magnetised  me  into  your  presence, 
where  I  was  forced  to  behave  if  I  would 
remain.  Later,  for  reasons  both  prosaic  and 
sentimeiual,  I  remained  without  effort.  I 
have  never  had  any  real  love  of  spirits, 
although  I  loved  their  effect  well  enough." 

"You  must  have  loved  that  oth  —  that 
woman  very  much," 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE          163 

"She  made  a  fool  of  me.  There  is  always 
a  time  in  a  man's  life  when  he  can  be  made 
a  complete  ass  of  if  the  woman  with  the  will 
to  make  an  ass  of  him  happens  along  coin- 
cidently.  I  fancied  myself  sated  with  fame, 
tired  of  life,  a  remote  and  tragic  figure  among 
men  —  the  trail  of  Byron  is  over  us  all. 
That  was  the  moment  for  the  great  and  fatal 
passion,  and  the  woman  was  all  that  a  malig- 
nant fate  could  devise;  not  only  to  inspire  the 
passion,  but  to  transform  a  frame  of  mind 
arbitrarily  imagined  into  a  sickening  reality. 
From  a  romantic  solitary  being  I  became  a 
prosaic  outcast.  Nor  could  I  recall  anything 
in  the  world  I  had  left  worth  the  sacrifice  of 
the  magician  that  gave  me  brief  spells  of 
happiness  and  oblivion.  Nobody  pretended 
that  it  injured  my  work,  and  I  remained  in 
the  pit." 

"And  your  self-respect?  You  were  satis- 
fied ?  Oh  surely  —  you  looked  —  when  I 
first  saw  you  - 

"I  loathed  myself,  of  course.  My  brain 
was  unaffected,  was  it  not  ?  I  abhorred  my 
body,  and  would  willingly  have  slashed  it  off 
could  I  have  gone  on  writing  without  it. 
Either  I  compelled  my  soul  to  stand  aside, 


164          THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

or  I  was  made  on  that  plan  —  I  cannot  tell ; 
but  my  inner  life  was  never  polluted  by  my 
visible  madness.  I  have  been  vile  but  I  have 
never  had  a  vile  thought.  I  fancy  you  under- 
stand this.  And  when  I  am  writing  my  ego 
does  not  exist  at  all  —  my  worst  enemies  have 
never  accused  me  of  the  egoism  common  to 
poets.  I  have  lived  in  another  realm,  where 
I  have  remembered  nothing  of  this.  Had  it 
been  otherwise  no  doubt  I  should  have  put 
it  all  at  an  end  long  ago." 

Anne  had  averted  her  eyes,  caught  in  one  of 
those  inner  crises  where  the  faculties  are  almost 
suspended.  She  faltered  out:  "And  after  — 
when  I  come  back  next  year,  shall  I  find  you 
like  this?" 

He  paused  so  long  before  replying  that  she 
moved  with  uncontrollable  excitement,  and 
as  she  did  so  his  eyes  caught  hers  and  held 
them. 

The  intensity  of  his  gaze  did  not  waver  but 
he  said,  unsteadily,  until  his  own  excitement 
mastered  him,  "I  have  assured  myself  again 
and  again  that  I  never  should  dare  to  tell  you 
that  I  loved  you ;  that  I  was  not  fit  to  approach 
you;  that  I  must  let  you  go,  and  try  to  live 
with  the  memory  of  you.  But  now  I  remem- 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE          165 

ber  nothing  but  that  I  love  you.  I  can  speak 
of  what  I  have  been,  but  I  cannot  recall  it. 
I  feel  nothing  but  that  I  am  a  man  in  the 
restored  vigour  of  youth  in  the  presence  of 
the  woman  I  want.  If  love  is  egoistical  then 
I  am  rampant  this  moment  with  egoism.  If 
I  could  have  the  bliss  of  marrying  you  I  never 
should  return  to  the  past  even  in  thought.  I 
am  a  poet  no  longer.  I  am  nothing  but  a 
lover.  I  remember  nothing,  want  nothing, 
but  the  perfection  of  human  happiness  I 
should  find  with  you." 

The  words  poured  from  his  lips  before  he 
finished,  and  the  trained  monotony  of  his 
voice  had  gone  to  the  winds.  His  face  was 
violently  flushed,  his  eyes  flashing.  "I  dare ! " 
he  cried  exultingly.  "I  dare!  It  would  be 
heaven  of  a  sort  to  have  broken  through  those 
awful  barriers  even  if  you  told  me  to  go  and 
never  enter  your  presence  again." 

' '  I  cannot  do  that !  I  cannot ! ' '  And  then  she 
flung  her  arms  out  from  her  deep  womanly 
figure  with  a  gesture  expressive  as  much  of 
maternal  yearning  as  of  youthful  and  irresisti- 
ble passion.  "I  will  stay  with  you  forever," 
she  said. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

OEVERAL  hours  later  Miss  Ogilvy,  who 
^  was  riding  slowly  along  the  road  after 
a  call  at  Bath  House,  suddenly  drew  rein  and 
stared  at  an  approaching  picture.  She  had  a 
pretty  taste  in  art,  had  Miss  Medora,  and  had 
painted  all  her  island  friends.  Never  had 
she  longed  more  than  at  this  moment  for 
palette  and  brush.  A  tall  supple  figure  was 
coming  down  the  white  road  between  the  palms 
and  the  cane  fields,  clad  in  white,  the  bonnet 
hanging  on  the  arm,  the  sun  making  a  golden 
web  on  the  chestnut  hair.  Never  had  the 
Caribbean  Sea  looked  as  blue  as  this  girl's 
eyes.  Even  her  cheeks  were  as  pink  as 
the  flowers  in  her  belt.  She  seemed  to  float 
rather  than  walk,  and  about  her  head  was  a 
cloud  of  blue  butterflies.  Miss  Ogilvy  had 
seen  Anne  striding  many  a  morning,  and  it 
was  the  ethereal  gait  that  challenged  her 
attention  as  much  as  the  beauty  of  the  picture. 
They  were  abreast  in  a  moment,  and 
although  Miss  Ogilvy  prided  herself  upon 

166 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE          167 

the  correctness  of  her  deportment,  she  cried 
out  impulsively,  and  with  no  formal  greeting: 
"What,  in  heaven's  name,  dear  Anne,  has 
happened?  I  never  saw  any  one  look  so 
beautiful  —  so  —  happy!" 

"I  am  going  to  marry  Byam  Warner,"  said 
Anne. 

Miss  Ogilvy  turned  pale.  She  had 
intended  to  scheme  for  this  very  result,  but 
confronted  with  the  fact,  her  better  nature 
prevailed,  and  she  faltered  out, 

"Oh  —  oh  —  it  is  too  great  a  risk!  No 
woman  should  go  as  far  as  that.  We  are 
all  willing  to  help  him,  but  that  you  should  be 
sacrificed  —  you  —  you  of  all  - 

"  I  am  not  sacrificing  myself.     Do  you  fancy 
I  am  so  great  a  fool  as  that  ?     No  —  no  - 
that  is  not  the  reason  I  shall  marry  him!" 

"He  certainly  is  a  great  poet  and  has 
improved  vastly  in  appearance.  I  never 
should  have  believed  it  to  be  possible." 
The  inevitable  was  working  in  Miss  Ogilvy. 
"But  Mrs.  Nunn?  All  her  friends?  There 
will  be  dreadful  scenes.  Oh  Anne,  dear, 
they  will  rush  you  off.  They  will  never 
permit  it." 

"My  aunt  controls  nothing  but  my  property, 


168          THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 


and  not  the  interest  of  that.  If  she  refuses 
her  consent  I  shall  simply  walk  up  to  Fig  Tree 
Church  and  marry  Mr.  Warner." 

Miss  Ogilvy  recovered  herself  completely. 
'You  will  do  nothing  of  the  sort,"  she  cried, 
warm  with  friendship  and  the  prospect  of  figur- 
ing in  the  most  sensational  episode  Nevis  had 
known  this  many  a  year.  "Come  to  me. 
Be  my  guest  until  the  banns  have  been  properly 
published,  and  marry  from  Ogilvy  Grange. 
Everything  must  be  de  rigueur,  or  I  should 
never  forgive  myself.  And  it  would  give  me 
the  greatest  happiness,  dear  Anne.  Mama 
and  papa  do  everything  I  wish,  and  papa 
is  one  of  Mr.  Warner's  father's  oldest  friends. 
Mrs.  Nunn  will  not  consent.  So  promise 
that  you  will  come  to  me." 

"I  am  very  grateful.  I  had  not  thought 
much  about  Aunt  Emily's  opposition,  but 
no  doubt  she  will  turn  me  out  of  Bath  House. 
You  may  see  me  at  the  Grange  to-night." 

"Send  one  of  the  grooms  with  a  note  as 
soon  as  you  have  had  the  inevitable  scene. 
I  only  hope  the  result  will  be  that  I  send  the 
coach  for  you  to-day.  I  do  hope  you  '11  be 
happy.  Why  should  n't  you  ?  Byam  Warner 
would  not  be  the  first  man  to  settle  down  in 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE          169 

matrimony.  But  can  you  stand  living  your 
life  on  Nevis." 

"I  should  have  wished  to  live  here  had  I 
never  met  Byam  Warner." 

"Oh — well --you  are  not  to  be  pitied. 
I  shall  paint  you  while  you  are  at  the  Grange, 
all  in  white  —  only  in  a  smarter  gown  —  in 
this  setting,  and  with  those  blue  butterflies 
circling  about  your  head.  You  cannot 
imagine  what  a  picture  you  made.  What  a 
pity  I  frightened  them  away.  Now,  mind  you 
write  me  at  once." 

She  kissed  her  radiant  friend  with  a  sigh, 
doubting  that  even  conquest  of  Lord  Hunsdon 
would  make  herself  look  like  a  goddess,  and 
rode  on. 

Anne  went  her  way,  even  more  slowly  than 
before.  She  was  in  no  haste  to  face  Mrs. 
Nunn,  and  she  would  re-live  the  morning 
hours  before  other  mere  mortals  scattered 
those  precious  images  in  her  mind.  Warner 
had  taken  her  up  to  his  hut  concealed  in  a 
hollow  of  the  mountain  and  surrounded  on 
all  sides  by  the  jungle,  then,  while  she  sat  on 
the  one  chair  the  establishment  boasted,  he 
had  cooked  their  breakfast,  a  palatable  mess 
of  rice  and  plantains,  and  the  best  of  coffee. 


170          THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

They  had  consumed  it  with  great  merriment 
under  a  banana  tree,  then  washed  the  dishes 
in  a  brook.  Afterward  he  had  shaken  down 
several  young  cocoanuts  and  they  had 
pledged  themselves  in  the  green  wine.  Then 
they  had  returned  to  the  shade  and  talked  - 
what  had  they  not  talked  about?  Anne 
opened  the  sealed  book  of  the  past  five  years 
of  which  he  had  been  the  hero.  He  read  it  with 
amazement  and  delight,  but  contrite  that  he 
had  received  no  message  from  that  turbulent 
young  brain  by  the  North  Sea.  But  he 
atoned  by  confessing  that  he  had  recognised 
her  as  his  own  the  moment  he  laid  eyes  on 
her,  that  she  was  all  and  more  than  he  had 
once  modelled  in  the  mists  of  his  brain.  He 
demanded  every  detail  of  that  long  union, 
so  imaginative  and  so  real,  and  told  Anne 
that  never  before  had  a  poet  had  the  fortune 
to  meet  a  woman  who  was  a  locked  fountain 
of  poetry,  yet  who  revealed  the  sparkling  flood 
by  a  method  of  her  own  with  which  no  words 
could  compete. 

"And  will  you  write  my  poems?"  Anne 
had  asked  eagerly.  But  he  had  drawn  down 
a  broad  leaf  between  his  face  and  hers.  "I 
told  you  that  I  was  a  poet  no  longer  —  merely 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE          171 

a  lover.  To  know  absolute  happiness  in  two 
forms  in  this  world  you  must  take  them  in 
turn.  I  shall  write  no  more." 

"Were  you  perfectly  happy  when  you 
wrote?"  asked  Anne,  a  little  jealously. 

"Perfectly." 

"I  can  almost  understand  it." 

"I  can  no  more  express  it  than  I  have  ever 
been  able  to  tell  in  verse  the  half  of  what  I 
blindly  conceived." 

"I  should  think  that  might  have  clouded 
your  happiness." 

"Yes  —  when  a  poem  was  revolving  and 
seething  in  my  distracted  head.  Never  tempt 
me  to  write,  for  while  the  thing  is  gestating  I 
am  a  brute,  moody,  irritable,  unhappy.  The 
whole  poem  seems  to  work  itself  out  remorse- 
lessly before  I  can  put  pen  to  paper,  and  at 
the  same  time  is  enveloped  in  a  mist.  I 
catch  glimpses  like  will-o'-the-wisps  in  a  fog 
bank,  sudden  visions  of  perfect  form  that 
seem  to  turn  to  grinning  masks.  It  is 
maddening!  But  when  the  great  moment 
arrives  and  I  am  at  my  desk  I  am  the  happiest 
man  on  earth." 

By  tacit  consent  the  subject  of  the  stimu- 
lants under  which  he  had  always  written  was 


172          THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

ignored,  as  well  as  the  terrible  chapter  of 
his  life  which  it  was  her  blessed  fortune  to 
close.  They  had  discussed  the  future,  talked 
of  practical  things.  He  had  told  her  that 
his  house  could  be  put  in  order  while  they 
travelled  among  the  islands,  and  that  he  made 
quite  enough  to  support  her  properly  if  they 
lived  on  Nevis.  She  had  three  hundred  a 
year  and  would  have  more  did  she  consent  to 
let  the  manor  for  a  longer  term,  and  he  had 
assured  her  that  hers  was  a  fortune  on  Nevis 
outside  of  Bath  House.  They  finally  decided 
to  marry  at  once  that  he  might  show  her  the 
other  islands  before  the  hurricane  season 
began. 

In  spite  of  loitering  Anne  arrived  at  the 
hotel  quite  two  hours  before  luncheon,  and 
after  divesting  herself  of  a  frock  that  would 
send  Mrs.  Nunn  into  hysterics  if  her  news  did 
not,  she  went  to  her  aunt's  room. 

Mrs.  Nunn,  fresh  from  her  sulphur  bath, 
was  reclining  on  a  sofa  in  her  large  cool  room, 
where  the  jalousies  were  half  closed,  and 
dawdling  over  Godey's  Lady's  Book,  a  fashion 
magazine  printed  in  the  United  States, which 
found  great  favour  in  her  eyes. 

"My  dear  Anne,"  she  said  languidly,  "I 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE          173 

suppose  you  breakfasted  with  Miss  Ogilvy. 
La!  La!  You  are  more  burnt  than  ever. 
Your  face  is  quite  red.  And  I  would  have 
you  well  bleached  before  the  London  season. 
Pray  sit  down.  It  affects  my  nerves  to  see 
you  wander  about  like  that." 

Anne  took  a  chair  facing  her  aunt.  "I  did 
not  breakfast  with  Miss  Ogilvy.  I  have  been 
talking  to  Mr.  Warner  all  the  morning." 

"Heavens!  what  a  waste  of  time,  when  you 
might  have  been  talking  to  Hunsdon  in  the 
morning-room.  It  was  quite  empty.  Maria 
has  Mr.  Warner  in  charge.  I  hope  you  have 
not  been  walking  about  with  him.  You 
know  I  told  you  - 

"No  one  saw  us.  We  talked  up  in  one  of 
the  jungles." 

"One  of  the  jungles!"  Mrs.  Nunn  sat  up. 
"I  never  heard  anything  sound  so  horrid. 
Do  you  tell  me  that  you  have  the  habit  of 
sitting  in  jungles  —  dear  me  —  with  young 
gentlemen!  I  forbid  you  to  go  out  again 
unattended." 

'This  was  the  first  time." 

"It  assuredly  will  be  the  last." 

"I  think  not.  Mr.  Warner  has  a  hut  in  the 
jungle  and  I  am  going  to  marry  him." 


174          THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

"What  —  you  -  And  then  as  she  met 

Anne's  eyes  she  gave  a  piercing  scream,  and 
her  maid  rushed  in.  "The  sal  volatile!"  she 
gasped.  "The  salts." 

She  fell  back  limp,  and  Anne,  who  was 
unaccustomed  to  the  easy  fainting  of  fine 
ladies,  was  terrified  and  administered  the 
restoratives.  But  Mrs.  Nunn  may  have  been 
less  time  reviving  than  Anne  fancied,  for 
when  she  finally  opened  her  eyes  they  were 
very  hard  and  her  features  singularly 
composed. 

'You  may  go,  Claire,"  she  said  to  the 
maid.  "Return  in  an  hour  and  pack  my 
boxes.  We  leave  by  the  packet  to-morrow. 
Now,"  she  added,  turning  to  Anne,  "I  am 
prepared  to  talk  to  you.  Only  kindly  remem- 
ber, if  you  have  anything  further  of  a  startling 
nature  to  communicate,  that  I  am  accustomed 
to  less  direct  and  brutal  methods." 

"I  am  sorry,"  said  Anne  humbly.  Mrs. 
Nunn  waved  apology  aside. 

"Of  course  you  know  that  I  shall  never 
give  my  consent.  Are  you  determined  to 
marry  without  it?" 

"Yes." 

"Your  father  all  over.     It  was  his  expres- 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE          175 

sion  of  inhuman  obstinacy  in  your  eyes  that 
gave  me  even  more  of  a  shock  than  your 
words.  Many  a  time  I  endeavoured  to  gain 
his  consent  to  your  visiting  London  where 
you  would  have  seen  the  world  and  been 
sensibly  married  by  this  time.  Never  under 
my  earlier  tutelage  would  you  have  made 
a  fool  of  yourself.  And  you  have  used  Huns- 
don  abominably  ill." 

"I  have  given  him  no  encouragement 
whatever 

"Do  not  argue.  My  nerves  will  not  stand 
it.  Now  this  much  I  have  the  right  to 
demand:  You  are  of  age,  I  cannot  prevent 
your  marrying  this  outcast,  but  you  owe  it  to 
me  as  well  as  to  yourself  to  return  to  London, 
be  presented  to  Her  Majesty,  and  do  a  London 


season  — 
« 


I  never  expect  to  leave  the  West  Indies 
again,  unless  to  be  sure,  Mr.  Warner  should 
feel  obliged  to  go  to  London  himself.  If  you 
sail  to-morrow  I  shall  go  to  Medora 
Ogilvy " 

'You  have  planned  it  all  out!"  shrieked 
Mrs.  Nunn.  Anne  hastily  poured  out 
another  dose  of  sal  volatile. 

"I  met  Medora  on  my  way  home.     She 


176          THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

fancied  how  you  would  take  it  and  offered 
me  shelter." 

"I  am  gratified  that  my  sense  of  propriety 
is  so  well  known.  You  can  go  to  her.  I 
proclaim  to  the  world  that  I  wash  my  hands 
of  the  disgraceful  affair  by  leaving  to-morrow. 
Great  God!  What  a  victory  for  Maria 
Hunsdon.  I  believe  she  plotted  it  all  along." 

Then  she  plunged  into  worldly  argument, 
abuse  of  Warner,  awful  pictures  of  the  future. 
Finally  Anne  rose. 

"I  don't  wish  to  do  your  nerves  a  real 
injury,  so  I  shall  leave  you  until  you  are 
calmer,"  she  said. 

"I  never  wish  to  see  you  again." 


never  -wish  to  see  you  again  '  " 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

TV/TRS.  NUNN,  although  she  had  talked 
*  •*•  with  much  heat,  was  still  collected 
enough  to  console  herself  with  the  reflection 
that  Anne  would  be  terrified  into  sailing  with 
her  on  the  morrow;  it  was  incomprehensible 
to  her  well-regulated  mind  that  any  young 
lady  in  her  niece's  position  in  life  would  con- 
sent to  a  scandal. 

To  do  her  justice,  she  had  no  wish  to  pre- 
cipitate Anne  into  an  act  which  she  believed 
must  be  fatal  to  her  happiness,  and  she 
trusted  to  further  argument  to  persuade  her 
to  return  to  London  if  only  for  the  trous- 
seau. With  her  niece  and  the  poet  on 
separate  hemispheres  she  would  answer  for 
the  result. 

Nevertheless,  she  called  in  Lady  Hunsdon 
and  Lady  Constance  Mortlake,  and  fairly 
enjoyed  the  consternation  visible  upon  the 
bright  satisfied  countenance  of  her  Maria. 
Lady  Hunsdon,  indeed,  thought  it  a  great 
pity  that  Anne  had  not  spared  her  son  by 

177 


178          THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

selecting  one  of  the  beaux  of  Bath  House 
instead  of  the  dissolute  poet. 

"It  is  quite  a  tragedy!"  she  said  with 
energy,  "and  I  for  one  cannot  permit  it.  I 
feel  as  if  it  were  my  fault " 

"It  is,"  said  Lady  Constance. 

"But  is  it?  I  am  inclined  to  blame  my 
son,  as  he  brought  me  here  to  reform  Mr. 
Warner  —  and  that  part  of  the  work  I  take 
credit  for " 

"Devil  a  bit.  He  never  would  have  come 
to  Bath  House  without  Anne  Percy  as  a  bait. 
I  have  learned  that  he  was  several  times  seen 
staring  through  the  windows  of  the  saloon 
before  he  accepted  your  invitation." 

"In  that  case  he  would  have  managed  to 
meet  her  even  had  I  not  taken  him  in  hand." 

"Logical  but  doubtful.  He  had  long  since 
lost  the  entree  to  Bath  House  and  to  all  the 
Great  Houses.  Only  you,  worse  luck,  had 
the  power  to  bring  him  into  a  circle  where  he 
was  able  to  meet  the  girl." 

"Then  you  must  admit  that  I  have  done 
some  good.  Had  he  not  been  able  to  meet 
her,  he  no  doubt  would  have  gone  from  bad 
to  worse.  I  at  least  have  been  the  medium 
in  his  reform,  the  necessary  medium." 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE          179 

"I  don't  believe  in  reform." 

'You  were  brought  up  at  the  court  of 
George  IV." 

"So  were  you,  and  therefore  should  have 
more  sense.  Warner  is  temporarily  set  up. 
No  doubt  of  that.  He  feels  a  new  man  and 
looks  like  one.  No  doubt  he  has  sworn  never 
to  drink  again  and  means  it.  But  wait  till 
the  honeymoon  has  turned  to  green  cheese. 
Wait  till  he  begets  another  poem.  Poets  to 
my  mind  have  neither  more  nor  less  than  a 
rotten  spot  in  the  brain  that  breaks  out 
periodically,  as  hidden  diseases  break  out 
in  the  body.  Look  at  poor  Byron." 

It  was  Lady  Hunsdon's  turn  to  be  satiric. 
"Poor  dear  Byron  must  have  had  a  row  of 
rotten  spots  one  of  which  was  always  in 
eruption.  One  may  judge  not  so  much  by 
his  achievements  as  by  his  performances." 

"Never  mind!"  cried  Lady  Constance,  the 
colour  deepening  in  her  pendulous  cheeks 
streaked  with  purple.  "He  was  the  most 
beautiful  mortal  that  ever  breathed  and  I  was 
in  love  with  him  and  am  proud  of  it." 

"I  feel  much  more  original  that  I  was 
not- 

"Oh,    dear    friends,"    cried    Mrs.    Nunn, 


180          THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

pathetically.  "We  have  to  do  with  a  living 
poet  —  unhappily.  Byron  has  been  in  Huck- 
nall-Torkard  church  these  twenty  years.  Do 
advise  me." 

"Stay  and  see  it  through,"  said  Lady 
Constance.  "I  know  love  when  I  see  it. 
It  is  so  rare  nowadays  that  it  fairly  wears  a 
halo.  By  and  by  it  will  be  extinct  on  earth 
and  then  we  shall  be  kneeling  to  St.  Eros 
and  St.  Venus  and  forget  all  the  naughty 
stories  about  them,  just  as  we  have  forgotten 
the  local  gossip  about  the  present  saints.  You 
cannot  prevent  this  match.  You  cannot  even 
postpone  it.  I  regret  it  as  much  as  you  do, 
but  I  cannot  help  sympathising  with  them! 
So  young  and  so  full  of  high  and  beautiful 
ideals !  They  will  be  happy  for  a  time.  Who 
knows  ?  He  really  may  be  a  new  man.  Maria 
can  convince  herself  of  anything  she  chooses;  I 
feel  disposed  to  take  a  leaf  out  of  her  book." 

Miss  Nunn  set  her  lips,  thrust  her  bust  up 
and  her  chin  out.  She  looked  obstinate  and 
felt  implacable.  "I  go  to-morrow.  Upon 
that  I  am  resolved.  I  should  be  criminal  to 
encourage  her 

There  was  a  tap  at  the  door.  A  servant 
entered  with  a  note. 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE          181 

"From  Anne!"  announced  Mrs.  Nunn. 
She  dismissed  the  servant  and  read  it  aloud: 

DEAR  AUNT  EMILY: 

Miss  Ogilvy  has  sent  the  coach  for  me,  feeling 
sure  that  I  have  incurred  your  displeasure,  and  asking  me 
to  go  at  once  to  the  Grange.  I  have  no  wish  to  leave  you 
if  you  remain  at  Bath  House,  but  if  you  are  resolved  upon 
going  to-morrow,  I  shall  accept  her  invitation.  Will  you  not 
let  me  come  in  and  say  good  bye,  dear  aunt?  Be  sure 
that  I  am  deeply  grateful  for  all  you  have  done  for  me 
and  only  wish  that  I  might  spare  you  so  much  pain. 

ANNE. 

Mrs.  Nunn  called  in  her  maid  and  sent  a 
verbal  refusal  to  see  her  niece. 

"I  would  have  saved  her  if  I  could."  She 
was  now  quite  composed,  in  the  full  sense  of 
duty  done.  "But  it  is  imperative  that  I  go 
to-morrow  and  announce  aloud  my  disapproval 
of  this  unfortunate  marriage.  I  shall  re- 
nounce my  guardianship  of  her  property  the 
day  I  return  to  London.  I  cannot  save  her, 
so  I  wash  my  hands." 

"I  shall  stay  for  the  wedding,"  said  Lady 
Constance,  "and  all  London  can  know  it." 

"It  is  my  duty  also  to  remain,"  said  Lady 
Hunsdon,  "and  my  son  must  be  best  man. 
But  Emily  is  quite  right  to  go." 


CHAPTER  XIX 

A  NNE,  during  the  ensuing  month,  had 
•**•  her  first  experience  since  childhood  of 
home  life.  Mrs.  Ogilvy  lay  on  a  sofa  in  one 
of  her  great  cool  rooms  all  day,  but  she  made 
no  complaint  and  diffused  an  atmosphere  of 
peace  and  gentleness  throughout  the  house. 
The  younger  children  were  pretty  creatures, 
well  trained  by  their  English  governess,  and 
Mr.  Ogilvy,  richly  coloured  by  sun  and  port, 
spent  much  of  his  time  on  horseback;  amiable 
at  home  when  his  will  was  not  crossed.  The 
large  stone  house,  painted  a  dazzling  white, 
and  surrounded  by  a  grove  of  tropical  trees, 
stood  so  high  on  the  mountain  that  the  garden 
terraces  behind  it  finished  at  the  entrance  to 
the  evergreen  forest.  It  was  fitted  up  with 
every  Antillian  luxury:  fine  mahogany  furni- 
ture —  the  only  wood  that  defied  the  boring 
of  the  West  Indian  worm  —  light  cane  chairs, 
polished  floors  of  pitch  pine,  innumerable 
cabinets  filled  with  bibelots  collected  during 
many  English  visits,  tables  covered  with 

182 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE          183 

newspapers  and  magazines,  the  least  possible 
drapery,  and  a  good  library.  In  the  garden 
was  a  pavilion  enclosing  a  marble  swimming 
tank.  Plates  of  luscious  fruits  and  cooling 
drinks  were  constantly  passed  about  by  the 
coloured  servants,  who  looked  as  if  they  had 
even  less  to  do  than  their  masters.  Anne 
was  given  a  large  room  at  the  top  of  the  house 
from  which  she  could  see  the  water,  the  white 
road  where  the  negro  women,  with  great 
baskets  on  their  heads  and  followed  by  their 
brood,  passed  the  fine  carriages  from  Bath 
House;  and,  on  all  sides,  save  above,  the  rich 
cane  fields.  Byam  Warner  came  to  breakfast 
and  remained  to  dinner. 

Miss  Ogilvy  was  in  her  element.  To  use 
her  own  expression,  Nevis  and  Bath  House 
were  in  an  uproar.  The  unforeseen  engage- 
ment following  on  the  heels  of  the  famous 
poet's  transformation,  the  haughty  departure 
of  Mrs.  Nunn,  and  the  manifest  approval 
of  Lady  Hunsdon  and  Lady  Constance,  who 
called  assiduously  at  The  Grange,  the  dis- 
tinguished ancestry  and  appearance  of  Miss 
Percy,  and  the  fact  that  the  wedding  was  to 
take  place  on  the  island  instead  of  in  London, 
combined  to  make  a  sensation  such  as  Nevis 


184          THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

had  not  known  since  the  marriage  of  Nelson 
and  Mrs.  Nisbet  in  1787.  Strange  memories 
of  Byam  Warner  were  dismissed.  He  was  a 
great  poet  and  Nevis's  very  own.  Never  had 
Nevis  so  loved  Medora.  The  Grange  over- 
flowed with  visitors  every  afternoon,  the  piano 
tinkled  out  dance  music  half  the  night. 

It  was  quite  a  week  before  Lord  Hunsdon 
called  at  the  Grange,  nor  did  Anne  and 
Medora  meet  him,  even  when  lunching  at 
Bath  House.  But  one  morning  he  rode  out, 
and  after  a  few  moments  of  constrained  polite- 
ness in  the  drawing-room,  deliberately  asked 
Anne  to  walk  with  him  in  the  garden.  She 
followed  him  with  some  apprehension.  He 
was  pale,  his  lips  were  more  closely  pressed, 
his  eyes  more  round  and  burning,  than  ever. 

When  they  were  beyond  the  range  of  Miss 
Medora's  attentive  eye,  he  began  abruptly: 

**I  have  not  come  here  before,  dear  Miss 
Percy,  because  I  had  to  conquer  my  selfish 
disappointment.  You  cannot  fail  to  know 
what  my  own  hopes  were.  But  I  have  con- 
quered and  we  will  never  allude  to  the  matter 
again.  My  friendship  for  Warner  is  now 
uppermost  and  it  is  of  him  I  wish  to  speak." 

"Yes?    Yes?" 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE          185 

"  Last  night  I  sat  late  with  him.  He  is  full 
of  hope,  of  youth  —  renewed  youth  must 
seem  a  wonderful  possession  to  a  man: 
we  are  so  prone  to  let  it  slip  by  unheeded! 
Well,  he  is  changed.  I  never  hoped  for  half 
as  much.  He  tells  me  that  the  demon  has 
fled.  He  has  never  a  sting  of  its  tail.  That 
may  be  because  he  never  really  craved  drink 
save  when  writing  —  until  these  last  years. 
It  is  this  I  wish  to  talk  to  you  about.  You 
have  the  most  solemn  responsibility  that  ever 
descended  upon  a  woman:  a  beautiful  soul, 
a  beautiful  mind  in  your  keeping.  If  you 
ever  relax  your  vigilance  —  ever  love  him 
less-  -" 

"I  never  shall." 

"No,"  he  said  with  a  sigh,  "I  don't  fancy 
you  will.  But  you  must  never  leave  him. 
He  is  not  weak  in  one  sense,  but  in  loneliness 
he  might  turn  to  composition  again,  and  there 
could  be  but  one  result." 

"But  if  he  had  done  without  stimulant  for 
a  long  while  —  was  quite  happy  —  well,  do 
not  you  think  I  might  be  stimulant  enough  ?" 
She  laughed  and  blushed,  but  she  brought  it 
out. 

Lord  Hunsdon  shook  his  head.     "No,  I 


186          THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

do  not  believe  that  even  you  could  work  that 
miracle.  I  have  known  him  since  we  were  at 
Cambridge  together,  and  I  am  convinced  that 
there  is  some  strange  lack  in  that  marvellous 
brain  which  renders  his  creative  faculty 
helpless  until  fired  by  alcohol.  If  the  human 
brain  is  a  mystery  how  much  more  so  is 
genius?  Much  is  said  and  written,  but  we 
are  none  the  wiser.  But  this  peculiar  fact  I 
do  know.  The  island  records  and  traditions 
tell  us  that  all  his  forefathers  save  one  were 
abstemious,  dignified,  normal  men,  mentally 
active  and  important.  But  his  grandfather, 
who  spent  the  greater  part  of  his  time  in  Lon- 
don, was  one  of  the  most  dissolute  men  of  the 
Regency.  He  was  a  wit  at  court,  a  personal 
friend  of  the  Prince  Regent.  There  was  no 
form  of  dissipation  he  did  not  cultivate,  and 
he  died  of  excess  at  a  comparatively  early  age. 
By  what  would  seem  to  be  a  special  tinkering 
of  the  devil  with  the  work  of  Almighty  God 
those  lusts  have  taken  possession  of  one  section 
of  Byam  Warner's  brain  only,  diseased  it, 
redistributed  its  particles  in  a  manner  that 
has  resulted  in  the  abnormal  faculty  we  call 
genius,  but  deprived  it  of  that  final  energy 
which  would  permit  those  great  powers  to 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE          187 

find  their  outlet  without  artificial  stimulant. 
These  may  be  fanciful  ideas,  but  they  have 
become  fixed  in  my  mind,  and  I  have  come 
here  to-day  to  ask  you  to  make  me  a  solemn 
promise." 

"Yes?" 

"That  you  will  never  permit  him  to  write 
again.  You  are  not  the  woman  to  loosen  your 
hold  on  a  man's  strongest  feelings  when  the 
novelty  has  passed.  You  can  hold,  influence 
him,  forever.  When  you  see  signs  of  recurring 
life  in  that  faculty,  divert  him  and  it  will 
subside.  He  has  fame  enough.  Nor  do  I 
think  that  he  was  ever  untowardly  ambitious. 
You  —  you  can  always  persuade  him  to  let 
the  pen  alone." 

"But  you  make  no  allowance  for  those 
creative  energies.  They  may  still  be  very 
strong,  demand  their  rights.  That  cry  may 
in  time  be  as  irresistible  as  any  of  his  more 
normal  instincts." 

"He  has  written  enough,"  said  Lord  Huns- 
don  firmly.  "He  must  rest  on  his  laurels. 
You  must  persuade  him  that  he  cannot  add  to 
his  fame.  With  feminine  arts  you  will  induce 
him  to  believe  that  it  is  best  to  let  well  alone." 

"I  have  given  little  thought  to  all  this " 


188          THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

"  But  you  will  now '  Give  me  your  promise, 
dear  Miss  Percy,  or  I  cannot  leave  this  island 
in  peace." 

"But  do  you  believe  that  Byam  Warner 
will  be  content  to  settle  down  for  the  rest  of 
his  mortal  life  to  an  existence  of  mere  domestic 
happiness  ?" 

"By  no  means.  He  delights  in  literature, 
and  although  he  is  well  read,  there  are  tomes 
which  not  even  a  Bacon  could  master  in  one 
lifetime.  Moreover,  he  should  buy  back  his 
canefields.  That  would  keep  him  much  out 
of  doors,  as  overseers  are  of  little  more  worth 
than  negroes."  Then  Lord  Hunsdon  had  an 
inspiration.  "Encourage  him  to  write  prose. 
There  need  be  no  fury  of  creation  in  that. 
The  greater  part  of  his  mnid  is  capable  of 
accomplishing  anything  unassisted.  Interest 
him  in  politics.  He  is  a  Tory  and  he  loves  me. 
Remind  him  constantly  of  the  Whig  inferno 
from  which  we  have  just  emerged.  I  am 
sure  he  would  write  political  pamphlets  of 
incomparable  influence.  I  have  never  heard 
Warner  talk  politics,  but  I  don't  doubt  that 
his  mind  would  illuminate  that  subject  as  it 
does  everything  else  it  touches.  Fill  the  house 
with  quarterlies  and  newspapers." 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE          189 

"He  might  write  a  political  romance,  after 
the  pattern  of  Disraeli,"  said  Anne,  who 
wondered  why  Lord  Hunsdon  did  not  take 
to  romantic  composition  himself. 

"Oh,  not  fiction,  not  by  any  means.  Work 
that  requires  the  exercise  of  the  merely  intel- 
lectual powers,  not  that  fatal  creative-spot. 
But  will  you  promise,  Miss  Percy  ?  Will  you 
permit  me  to  make  sure  that  you  understand 
your  solemn  responsibility?" 

He  faced  her,  his  eyes  flashing  with  that 
fanatical  fire  that  would  have  sent  him  to  the 
stake  three  centuries  since.  They  seemed  to 
retreat,  become  minute,  bore  through  her. 
Anne,  whose  mind  was  in  confusion,  and  not 
a  little  angered,  stirred  uneasily,  but  she 
replied  in  a  calm  decided  tone. 

"I  fully  realise  my  responsibility.  Make 
no  doubt  of  that.  I  know  what  I  have  done, 
what  I  am  undertaking,  I  shall  live  for  him, 
never  for  myself.  I  promise  you  that,  if  you 
think  the  promise  necessary." 

"And  you  will  never  let  him  write  another 
line  of  poetry?" 

"Not  if  I  believed  it  would  do  him  more 
hurt  than  good." 

"That    is    not    enough,"    cried    Hunsdon 


190          THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

passionately.  'You  must  be  unconditional. 
One  surrender  and  he  is  lost.  If  it  were  a 
mere  case  of  brandy  while  he  was  writing  — 
but  you  have  not  the  least  idea  what  it  leads 
to.  He  is  transformed,  another  man  —  not 
a  man  at  all.  And  when  he  emerged,  did  he 
enter  that  horror  again,  he  would  loathe 
himself  as  he  never  did  before.  He  would 
be  without  one  shred  of  self-respect.  I  shudder 
to  think  what  would  be  the  final  result." 

'You  will  admit  that  as  his  wife  I  may  find 
better  opportunities  to  understand  that  compli- 
cated nature  than  you  have  had." 

"Will  you  not  make  me  that  promise?" 
"I  will  only  promise  to  be  guided  by  my 
judgment,  not  by  my  feelings.     I  hear  Byam's 
voice.     After  all,  it  is  hardly  fair  to  talk  him 
over  like  this." 


CHAPTER  XX 

TTUNSDON  did  not  give  up  the  siege,  and 
"*•  rode  out  daily,  much  to  the  complacency 
of  Miss  Ogilvy,  to  whom  Anne  contrived  to 
turn  him  over.  Lady  Constance,  who  found 
Medora  amusing,  was  still  further  amused 
by  the  subtle  currents  beneath  the  surface, 
blind  only  to  the  shrewd  young  Colonial's 
court  of  herself,  and  was  finally  inspired  to 
invite  her  to  London  for  the  season.  Miss 
Ogilvy,  in  her  own  way,  was  as  happy  as  Anne. 
A  younger  sister  was  returning  from  England 
and  could  take  over  her  duties  at  the  Grange; 
Lady  Mary,  riding  dashingly  about  the  island 
with  the  spirit  of  eighteen,  was  caught  in  a 
shower,  neglected  to  change  her  garments  at 
once,  had  a  fever,  and  arose  as  yellow  as  a 
lemon;  Medora  was  nineteen  and  as  white  as 
an  amaryllis. 

The  day  of  the  wedding  arrived.  Never 
was  there  such  a  ringing  of  bells,  so  splendid 
an  array  of  equipages  and  gowns.  Fig  Tree 
Church  could  hardly  hold  the  planters  and 

191 


192          THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

their  wives,  the  guests  from  Bath  House,  as 
well  as  those  from  St.  Kitts,  and  the  Byams 
and  Warners  that  had  sailed  over  from  half 
a  dozen  islands.  Outside,  the  churchyard, 
the  road,  the  fields  were  crowded  with  the 
coloured  folk,  humble  and  ambitious.  Bon- 
nets and  parasols  gave  this  dense  throng  the 
effect  of  a  moving  tropical  garden,  and  if  the 
women  were  too  mindful  of  their  new  manners 
to  shout  as  the  Ogilvy  coach  rolled  past  con- 
taining the  bride  hardly  visible  under  clouds 
of  tulle,  the  men  set  up  a  wild  roar  as  they 
caught  sight  of  Warner  hastily  approaching 
the  rear  of  the  church  by  a  side  path.  Mr. 
Ogilvy  gave  the  bride  away,  Lord  Hunsdon 
was  best  man,  and  Medora  the  only  brides- 
maid. Anne  had  pleaded  for  a  quiet  wedding 
at  the  Grange,  but  to  this  her  young  hostess 
would  not  harken;  and  the  festival  was  vastly 
to  her  credit,  from  the  beautiful  decorations 
of  the  chancel  to  the  wedding-breakfast  at 
the  Grange.  Lord  Hunsdon  was  much  inter- 
ested to  learn  that  the  dainty,  varied,  and 
appetising  repast  was  ordered  and  partly 
cooked  by  the  accomplished  creature  beside 
him  —  whose  eyes  certainly  had  a  most 
attractive  Oriental  slant.  It  so  happened  that 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE          193 

his  lordship  was  deeply  concerned  with  the 
Orient,  and  hoped  that  the  cares  of  state,  now 
that  the  Tories  were  safely  planted,  would 
permit  him  to  visit  it. 

The  negroes  were  dined  on  a  platform  in 
one  of  the  bare  cane  fields,  and  danced  after- 
ward until  the  bridal  party  started  for  the 
beach  before  Charlestown;  then  all,  high 
and  low,  followed  in  the  wake  of  the 
Grange  coach  with  its  four  horses  decorated 
with  white  ribbons  and  driven  by  postillions. 
One  of  the  wedding  presents  had  been  a 
fine  little  sloop,  and  in  it  Warner  and  his 
bride  set  off  at  four  in  the  afternoon,  almost 
the  entire  population  of  Nevis,  white  and 
black,  crowding  the  sands  and  cheering 
good  will. 

That  honeymoon  among  the  islands  was 
so  replete  with  beauty  and  bliss  and  the 
fulfilment  of  every  romantic  and  ardent 
dream,  that  when  it  was  finished  it  was  almost 
a  relief  to  Anne  to  adjust  her  faculties  to  the 
homely  details  of  housekeeping.  For  two 
months  they  wandered  amongst  that  chain 
of  enchanted  islands  set  in  a  summer  sea,  the 
sympathetic  trade  winds  filling  their  sails 


194          THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

and  tempering  the  heat  on  shore.  St.  Thomas 
with  its  little  city  on  three  hills  like  a  painted 
fairy  tale;  St.  Croix  with  its  old  Spanish 
arcades  and  palm  avenues;  the  red-roofed 
Dutch  village  in  the  green  crater  of  St.  Bar- 
tholomew, which  shot  straight  out  of  the 
sea  without  a  hand's  width  of  shore;  Antigua 
with  its  English  landscapes  and  tropical 
hospitality;  St.  Lucia,  looking  like  an  exploded 
mountain  chain,  that  had  caught  the  bright 
plains  and  forests  of  another  island  while  the 
earth  was  in  its  throes,  green  as  a  shattered 
emerald  by  day,  flaming  with  the  long  torches 
of  gigantic  fireflies  by  night;  St.  Vincent  with 
its  smoking  volcanoes  and  rich  plantations; 
Martinique,  that  bit  of  old  France,  with  its 
almost  perpendicular  flights  of  street-steps 
cut  in  the  rock,  lined  with  ancient  houses; 
beautiful  honey-coloured  women  always  pass- 
ing up  and  down  with  tall  jars  or  baskets  on 
their  stately  heads ;  Dominica,  with  its  rugged 
mountains,  roaring  cataracts,  and  brilliant 
verdure;  Trinidad,  with  its  terrible  cliffs, 
infinitely  coloured  valleys,  mountain  masses; 
its  groves  of  citron,  and  hedges  of  scarlet 
hybiscus  and  white  hydrangea,  towns  set  in 
the  green  amphitheatres  of  gentle  hills,  impene- 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE          195 

trable  forests,  and  lakes  of  boiling  pitch: 
Warner  and  Anne  lingered  on  all  of  them, 
climbed  to  the  summit  of  volcanoes  hidden 
in  the  clouds  and  gazed  into  awful  craters 
evil  of  smell  and  resounding  with  the  menace 
of  deep,  imprisoned,  persistent  tides;  sailed 
on  the  quiet  lake  in  the  crater  of  Mt.  Pelee; 
rode  on  creole  ponies  for  days  through  scented 
chromatic  forests  with  serrated  heights  frown- 
ing above  them,  and  companioned  by  birds 
as  vivid  as  the  flowers  and  as  silent.  There 
were  no  wild  beasts,  nothing  to  mar  days 
and  nights  so  heavy  laden  with  beauty  that 
Anne  wondered  if  the  cold  North  existed  on 
the  same  planet,  and  sometimes  longed  for 
the  scent  of  English  violets.  In  Trinidad 
they  were  entertained  in  great  state  by  the 
most  distinguished  of  Warner's  relatives,  a 
high  official  of  the  island.  Anne  wore  for 
an  evening  the  famous  ring,  and  was 
nearly  prostrated  with  excitement  and  the 
fear  of  losing  it.  If  she  had  not  been 
half  drugged  with  happiness  and  the  in- 
effable beauty  which  scarcely  for  a  moment 
deserted  her  waking  senses,  she  would  have 
attempted  to  define  the  quiver  of  terror 
that  crossed  her  nerves  now  and  again;  for 


196          THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

life  at  white  heat  has  been  embolismal  since 
the  death  of  the  gods.  As  to  Warner,  he 
who  had  written  many  poems,  now  devoted 
himself  to  living  one,  and  achieved  a  perfect 
success. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

TTAMILTON  HOUSE  had  been  repaired 
A  •••  during  their  absence,  without  and 
within.  It  was  not  necessary  to  refurnish, 
for  the  fine  old  mansion  was  set  thick  with 
mahogany  four-posters,  settles,  chests,  tables 
and  chairs  —  more  stately  than  comfortable. 
They  arrived  without  warning,  but  the  ser- 
vants, under  the  merciless  driving  of  Mr. 
Ogilvy,  had  been  on  the  alert  for  several  days, 
and  as  the  sloop  was  becalmed  for  two  hours 
not  three  miles  from  shore,  until  the  lagging 
evening  breeze  filled  the  sails,  when  Warner 
and  Anne  finally  landed  and  were  led  in 
triumph  to  their  home  by  some  twenty  of 
their  friends,  every  room  of  the  upper  story 
was  flooded  with  the  light  of  wax  candles  set 
in  long  polished  globes,  the  crystal  and  silver  of 
the  wedding  presents  was  on  the  great  mahog- 
any dining-table  laden  with  the  plenty  of  the 
tropics,  muslin  curtains  fluttered  in  the  evening 
wind,  the  pitch-pine  floors  shone  like  glass, 
and  flowers  were  on  every  stand  and  table. 

197 


198          THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

There  was  a  very  long  and  very  gay  dinner, 
and  many  more  guests  came  during  the  even- 
ing. When  the  last  of  them  had  gone  and 
Anne  went  to  her  own  pink  room,  the  only 
luxurious  room  in  the  house,  she  felt  happier 
than  even  during  the  past  enchanted  weeks, 
for  she  was  at  home  and  the  home  was  her 
own. 

She  had  never  been  permitted  to  interfere 
with  the  ancient  and  admirable  housekeeping 
at  Warkworth  Manor,  but  she  discovered 
next  morning  that  the  spirit  of  the  housewife 
was  in  her,  and  was  far  more  exultant  over 
her  bunch  of  keys,  her  consultations  with  her 
major-domo,  her  struggles  with  the  most 
worthless  servants  on  earth,  than  she  had 
ever  been  over  her  first  doll  or  her  first  novel. 
The  routine  into  which  the  young  couple 
immediately  settled  was  unique  to  both  and 
had  little  of  monotony  in  it.  After  their 
early  walk  Warner  spent  the  morning  in  his 
library,  where  he  had  a  large  case  of  books, 
Hunsdon's  wedding  present,  to  consider.  He 
resisted  his  friend's  proposition  to  write 
political  pamphlets  with  the  seriousness  that 
rises  from  the  deepest  humour,  but  he  loved 
to  read  and  ponder,  and  his  few  hours  of 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE          199 

solitude  were  easily  occupied  with  the  lore  of 
the  centuries.  After  siesta  they  rode  and 
called  at  one  or  other  of  the  Great  Houses, 
and  every  evening  they  were  dined  or  dined 
others.  Bath  House  was  closed,  but  the 
island  was  always  gay  until  the  dead  heat  of 
summer  came  and  hurricanes  threatened  but 
rarely  thinned  the  heavy  air,  when  although 
tropical  storms  were  frequent,  the  rain  was  as 
hot  as  the  earth. 

Even  then  Warner  and  Anne  had  a  com- 
panionship of  which  they  never  tired,  and 
there  was  a  new  interest  in  watching  the 
torn  Caribbean  and  the  furious  driving  of 
the  wind  among  the  trees.  They  could 
always  exercise  on  the  long  veranda,  or  play 
games  within  doors. 

Then,  for  a  time,  this  perfect  state  of  bliss 
was  threatened.  Anne  was  thrown  from 
her  horse,  frightened  by  a  flash  of  lightning, 
as,  caught  in  a  storm,  they  were  riding  full 
speed  for  home,  and  was  in  agony  and  peril 
for  several  days,  confined  to  her  bed  for  a 
fortnight  longer.  There  were  the  best  of 
doctors  on  so  wealthy  an  island  as  Nevis,  and 
she  recovered  completely,  although  forced 
to  shroud  not  the  least  of  her  desires.  But 


200          THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

the  wild  despair  of  Warner  while  she  wras  in 
danger,  and  his  following  devotion,  his  inspired 
ingenuity  in  diverting  her  during  her  term  of 
sadness  and  protest,  made  her  feel  that  to 
cherish  disappointment  even  in  her  inmost 
soul  would  be  flying  in  the  face  of  providence ; 
her  spirits  struggled  up  to  their  normal  high 
level,  and  once  more  she  was  the  happiest 
of  women.  It  was  another  fortnight  before 
she  could  leave  the  house,  but  the  languor 
was  a  new  and  pleasant  sensation  and  not 
unbecoming  the  weather.  Warner  read  aloud 
instead  of  to  himself,  and  they  wondered 
that  they  had  never  discovered  this  firm 
subtle  link  in  comradeship  before.  The  rainy 
summer  is  the  winter  of  the  tropics,  and 
they  felt  the  same  delight  in  hiding  themselves 
within  their  own  four  walls  that  others  so 
often  experience  in  a  sterner  clime  when  the 
elements  forbid  social  intercourse. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

A  NNE  could  never  recall  just  when  it 
•**•  was  she  discovered,  or  rather  divined, 
that  her  husband  was  once  more  a  dual  being. 
A  vague  sense  of  change  cohered  into  fact 
when  she  realised  that  for  some  time  he  had 
been  reading  aloud  and  pursuing  an  under- 
current of  independent  thought.  His  devo- 
tion increased,  were  that  possible,  but  the 
time  came  when  he  no  longer  could  conceal 
that  he  was  often  absent  in  mind  and 
depressed  in  spirit.  He  took  to  long  rambles 
in  which  she  could  not  accompany  him  at 
that  season  while  so  far  from  robust,  smilingly 
excusing  himself  by  reminding  her  that  being 
so  much  more  vigorous  than  of  old  he  needed 
a  corresponding  amount  of  exercise.  There 
finally  came  an  entire  week  when  he  was 
forced  to  remain  indoors,  so  persistent  were 
the  torrential  rains,  and  after  the  first  two 
days  he  ceased  even  to  pretend  to  read,  but 
sat  staring  out  of  the  window  with  blank 

eyes  and  set  lips,  at  the  gray  deluge  beating 

201 


202          THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

down  the  palm  trees.  He  came  to  the  table 
and  consumed  his  meals  mechanically.  Nor 
was  he  irritable.  The  gentleness  of  his  nature 
seemed  unaffected,  but  that  his  mental  part 
seethed  was  autoptical.  If  he  was  less  the 
lover  he  clung  to  Anne  as  to  a  rock  in  mid- 
ocean,  and  if  he  would  not  talk  he  was  uneasy 
if  she  left  the  room. 

There  was  but  one  explanation,  and  he 
was  becoming  less  the  man  and  more  the  poet 
every  day.  He  slept  little,  and  lost  the  spring 
from  his  gait.  Anne  was  as  convinced  as 
Lord  Hunsdon  or  Lady  Constance  that  all 
geniuses  were  unsound  of  mind  no  matter 
how  normal  they  might  be  while  the  creative 
faculty  slept.  Sleep  it  must,  and  no  doubt 
this  familiar  of  Warner's  had  been  almost 
moribund  owing  to  the  extraordinary  and 
unexpected  change  that  had  taken  place  in 
his  life,  and  the  new  interest  that  had  held 
every  faculty.  This  interest  was  no  less 
alive,  but  it  was  no  longer  novel,  and  a  ghost 
had  risen  in  his  brain  clamouring  for  form 
and  substance. 

Anne  wished  that  he  would  write  the  poem 
and  have  done  with  it.  She  had  never  for  a 
moment  demanded  that  he  should  sacrifice 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE          «03 

his  career  to  her,  and  during  the  past  months, 
having  admired  as  much  as  she  loved  him, 
she  had  dismissed  as  a  mere  legend  the 
belief  held  by  his  friends  that  he  could  not 
write  without  stimulant.  And  she  loved  the 
poet  as  much  as  she  loved  the  man.  Indeed 
it  was  the  poet  she  had  loved  first,  to  whom 
she  had  owed  a  happiness  during  many 
lonely  years  almost  as  perfect  as  the  man 
had  given  her.  That  he  had  no  weakness  for 
spirits  was  indubious.  There  were  always 
cognac  and  Madeira  on  the  table  in  the  liv- 
ing room  where  they  received  the  convivial 
planters,  and  she  drank  Canary  herself  at  table. 
It  was  patent  to  her  that  he  refrained  from 
writing  because  he  had  voluntarily  given 
her  his  word  he  would  write  no  more,  and 
that  he  had  but  to  take  pen  in  hand  for  the 
flood  to  burst.  She  did  not  broach  the  sub- 
ject for  some  days,  waiting  for  him  to  make 
an  appeal  of  some  sort,  no  matter  how  subtle, 
but  toward  the  end  of  this  stormy  week  when 
he  was  looking  more  forlorn  and  haunted 
every  moment,  she  suddenly  determined  to 
wait  no  longer. 

They  were  standing  at  the  window  watch- 
ing the  moon  fight  its  way  amidst  torn  black 


204          THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

clouds  and  flinging  glittering  doles  upon  the 
black  and  swollen  waters.  She  put  her  hand 
on  his  shoulder  as  a  man  might  have  done 
and  said  in  a  matter-of-fact  tone: 

'You  want  to  write.  You  are  quick  with 
a  new  poem.  That  must  be  patent  even  to 
the  servants.  I  wish  you  would  write  it." 

He  jerked  up  his  shoulders  as  if  to  dis- 
lodge her  hand,  then  recollected  himself  and 
put  his  arm  about  her. 

"I  never  intend  to  write  another  poem," 
he  said. 

"That  is  nonsense.  A  poem  must  be  much 
like  a  baby.  If  it  is  conceived  it  must  be 
born.  Do  you  deny  it  is  there?"  tapping 
his  forehead. 

:'When  the  devil  takes  possession  it  is 
better  to  stifle  him  before  he  grows  to  his 
full  strength." 

'You  are  unjust  to  speak  in  that  fashion 
of  the  most  divine  of  all  gifts.  You  are  not 
intimating  that  your  poem  is  too  wicked  to 
publish?" 

"No!"  He  flung  out  his  hands,  striking 
the  window.  His  eyes  expanded  and  flashed. 
"I  believe  it  to  be  the  most  beautiful  poem 
ever  conceived!"  he  cried.  "I  never  before 


knew  much  about  any  of  my  poems  until  I 
had  pen  in  hand,  but  although  I  could  not 
recite  a  line  of  this  I  can  see  it  all.  I  can  feel 
it.  I  can  hear  it.  It  calls  me  in  my  dreams 
and  whispers  when  I  am  closest  to  you.  And 
you  —  you  —  are  its  inspiration.  You  have 
liberated  all  that  was  locked  from  my  imagina- 
tion before.  I  lived  in  an  unreal  world  until 
I  knew,  lived  with  you.  Knowing  that  so 
well,  I  believed  that  my  deserted  muse  would 
either  take  herself  off  in  disdain,  or  be 
smothered  dead.  Art  has  always  been  jealous 
of  mortal  happiness.  But  the  emotions  I 
have  experienced  in  the  past  six  months  — 
despair,  hope,  despair,  hope,  superlative 
happiness,  mere  content,  the  very  madness  of 
terror,  and  its  equally  violent  reaction  when 
I  experienced  the  profoundest  religious  emo- 
tion —  all  this  has  enriched  my  nature,  my 
mind,  that  abnormal  patch  in  my  brain  that 
creates.  Ever  since  I  took  pen  in  hand  I 
have  dreamed  of  a  poetic  meridian  that  I 
have  never  approached — until  now!" 

"What  must  it  be?"  cried  Anne,  quivering 
with  excitement  and  delight.  "You  have 
done  more  than  other  men  already." 

"I   have    never   written    a   great   poetical 


206          THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

drama.  My  faculty  has  been  mainly  narra- 
tive, lyric,  epic,  with  dramatic  action  in  short 
bursts  only.  The  power  to  build  a  great, 
sustained,  and  varied  drama,  the  richness 
and  ripeness  of  dramatic  imagination,  of 
character  portrayal,  representation  as  distinct 
from  analysis,  of  vigorous  scenes  that  sweep 
through  the  excited  brain  of  the  reader  with 
the  rush  of  the  hurricane,  and  owe  nothing 
to  metrical  sweetness,  to  lyrical  melody  — 
that  has  never  come  before  —  and  now  — 

now 

'You  will  write  it!  Do  you  —  can  you 
imagine  that  I  am  jealous  —  that  I  am  not  as 
ambitious  for  you  as  you  could  be  for 
yourself?" 

"I  have  never  been  ambitious  before.  I 
have  never  cared  enough  about  the  world. 
I  wrote  first  because  the  songs  sang  off  the 
the  point  of  my  quill,  and  then  to  keep  a 
roof  over  my  head.  I  have  never  placed 
any  inordinate  value  on  my  work  after  it 
was  done,  although  the  making  of  it  gave 
me  the  keenest  happiness,  the  polishing 
delighted  all  the  artist  in  me.  It  is  only  now, 
now,  for  the  first  time,  that  I  have  been  fancy- 
ing myself  going  down  to  posterity  in  the 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE          207 

company  of  the  immortals.  Oh  God,  what 
irony!  When  it  did  not  matter  the  inspira- 
tion lagged,  and  now  it  can  do  me  no  good ! " 

"But  it  shall!  And  as  much  for  me  as  for 
your  fame.  Your  work  has  been  little  less 
to  me  than  yourself.  I  must  have  this!" 

He  turned  to  her  for  the  first  time  and 
looked  at  her  curiously.  "Is  it  possible 
that  you  do  not  know  the  reason  why  I  cannot 
write?"  he  asked.  "We  have  avoided  the 
subject,  but  I  understood  that  you  knew. 
Hunsdon  told  me " 

"Oh,  yes,  but  that  was  when  you  were 
physically  and  morally  a  -  — "  she  stopped 
short,  blushing  painfully. 

"A  wreck,"  he  supplemented  grimly. 

"Well!  You  had  let  yourself  go.  Now  it 
is  different.  You  are  well.  You  are  happy. 
Even  your  brain  is  stronger  — your  will,  as 
a  matter  of  course." 

"I  never  wrote  a  line  in  my  earliest  youth 
without  stimulant." 

"But  you  might  have  done  so.  It  is  only 
a  freak  of  imagination  that  prompts  you  to 
believe  that  you  cannot  write  alone,  that  you 
must  take  alcohol  into  partnership,  as  it  were. 
Even  little  people  are  ruled  by  imagination; 


208          THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

how  much  more  so  a  great  faculty  in  which 
imagination  must  follow  many  morbid  and 
eccentric  tracks  ?  And  habit,  no  doubt,  is 
the  greatest  of  all  forces,  while  it  is  undis- 
turbed. But  that  old  habit  of  yours  has  been 
shattered  these  last  months.  You  made  no 
attempt  to  resist  before.  You  could  resist 
now.  If  I  have  been  the  inspiration  of  this 
poem,  why  cannot  I  take  the  place  of  brandy  ? 
It  is  no  great  compliment  to  me  if  I  cannot. 
Try." 

He  put  his  hands  on  her  shoulders  and 
looked  more  the  man  than  the  poet  for  the 
moment.  "Anne,"  he  said  solemnly.  "Let 
well  enough  alone.  I  made  up  my  mind 
to  write  no  more  the  day  you  promised  to 
marry  me.  I  told  you  that  the  lover  had 
buried  the  poet,  and  I  believed  it.  But  I 
find  that  the  poet  must  come  to  life  now  and 
again  —  for  a  while  at  least.  But  although 
the  process  will  be  neither  pleasant  nor  pain- 
less, I  shall  strangle  him  in  time." 

"Can   you?" 

"Yes  — I  think  so." 

"And  be  quite  as  happy  as  before  ?" 

"Oh,  I  am  not  prophet  enough  for  that. 
J  can  never  be  unhappy  while  I  have  you." 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE          209 

"And  I  could  never  be  happy  if  I  let  you 
kill  a  gift  that  is  as  living  a  part  of  yourself 
as  your  sense  of  vision  or  touch.  Do  you 
suppose  I  ever  deluded  myself  with  the  dream 
that  you  would  settle  down  into  the  domestic 
routine  of  years  —  write  political  pamphlets 
for  Hunsdon  ?  I  knew  this  would  come  and 
I  never  have  had  a  misgiving.  I  know  you 
can  write  without  stimulant.  Nothing  can 
be  more  fanciful  than  that  the  highest  of  all 
mental  gifts  must  have  artificial  aid.  That 
may  be  the  need  of  the  little  man  driving  a 
pen  for  his  daily  bread,  of  the  small  talent 
trying  to  create,  but  never  for  you!" 

"There  is  some  strange  congenital  want. 
I  am  certain  of  it.  And  if  I  gave  way,  Anne, 
I  should  be  a  madman  for  days,  perhaps 
weeks  —  a  beast  —  oh,  you  have  not  the 
faintest  suspicion;  and  all  I  am  living  for  in 
the  wretched  present  is  that  you  never  may." 

"I  do  not  believe  in  permanent  congenital 
weaknesses  with  a  free  rich  faculty  like  yours. 
I  know  how  that  fatal  idea  has  wedged  itself 
in  your  brain  —  but  if  you  try  —  if  you  per- 
sist —  you  will  overcome  it.  Promise  me 
that  you  will  try." 

"You  are  so  strong,"  he  said  sadly.     !'You 


210          THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

cannot  conceive,  with  all  your  own  imagina- 
tion, the  miserable  weaknesses  of  the  still 
half-developed  human  brain.  The  greatest 
scientific  minds  that  have  spent  their  lives  in 
the  study  of  the  brain  know  next  to  nothing 
about  it.  How  should  you,  dear  child?  I 
know  the  curse  that  is  the  other  half  of  my 
gift  to  write,  but  of  its  cause,  its  meaning,  I 
know  nothing.  You  are  strong  by  instinct, 
but  you  have  not  the  least  idea  why  or  how 
you  are  strong.  It  is  all  a  mysterious  arrange- 
ment of  particles." 

"But  that  is  no  reason  one  should  not 
strive  to  overcome  weakness." 

"Certainly  not.  But  I  have  so  much  at 
stake  that  I  think  it  wisest  to  kill  the  tempta- 
tion outright,  and  not  tempt  providence  by 
dallying  with  it.  And  this  regarding  the 
arbitrary  exercise  of  the  imagination:  It 
is  the  small  people  of  whom  you  spoke 
just  now  who  are  the  slaves  of  what  little 
imagination  they  have,  who  can  make  them- 
selves ill  or  sometimes  well  under  its  influence. 
But  when  a  man  uses  his  imagination  pro- 
fessionally as  long  as  I  have  done  it  takes  a 
place  in  his  life  apart.  It  has  no  influence 
whatever  on  his  daily  life,  on  his  physical  or 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE         211 

even  his  mental  being.  He  knows  it  too  well. 
It  would  seem  as  if  the  imagination  itself 
were  cognisant  of  this  fact  and  was  too 
wise  to  court  defeat." 

"I  can  understand  that,  but  I  also  know 
that  genius  is  too  abnormal  to  accept  any  such 
reasoning,  no  matter  what  the  highly  devel- 
oped brain  may  be  capable  of.  Unknown 
to  yourself  you  have  become  the  victim  first 
of  an  idea,  then  of  a  habit.  You  will  struggle 
and  exhaust  yourself  and  end  by  hating  your- 
self and  me.  You  have  no  doubt  that  this 
would  be  a  greater  work  than  your  greatest  ?" 

"Oh,  no!  no!" 

"Then  do  me  the  justice  to  make  one 
attempt  at  least  to  write  it.  Come  to  the 
library!" 

His  face  had  been  turned  from  her  for 
some  moments,  but  at  the  last  words,  so  full 
of  concrete  suggestion,  he  moved  irresistibly 
and  she  saw  that  his  eyes  were  blazing  with 
eagerness,  with  a  desire  she  had  never  seen. 

"Come,"  she  said. 

He  stared  at  her,  through  her,  miles  beyond 
her,  then  turned  mechanically  toward  his 
library.  "Perhaps,"  he  muttered.  "Who 
knows  ?  Why  not  ?  " 


CHAPTER  XXin 

Anne  rose  the  next  morning 
and  tapped  on  Warner's  door  there 
was  no  answer.  She  entered  softly,  but 
found  that  his  bed  had  not  been  occupied. 
For  this  she  was  not  unprepared,  and  al- 
though she  had  no  intention  of  galling  her 
poet  with  the  routine  of  daily  life,  still  must 
he  be  fed,  and  she  went  at  once  to  the  library 
to  invite  him  to  breakfast.  He  was  not  there. 
She  glanced  hastily  over  the  loose  sheets 
of  paper  on  his  writing  table.  There  were 
a  few  scratches,  unintelligible  phrases,  noth- 
ing more.  In  the  gallery  she  met  the 
major-domo,  who  informed  her  that  the 
master  had  gone  out  in  his  boat  about 
five  o'clock.  The  day  was  clear  and  the 
waters  calmer.  There  was  no  reason  for 
either  surprise  or  uneasiness,  and  Anne,  who 
expected  vagaries  of  every  sort  until  the 
poem  was  finished,  endeavoured  to  while 
away  the  long  day  with  a  new  novel  sent  her 
by  Medora  Ogilvy.  But  she  had  instinctively 

212 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE          213 

taken  a  chair  by  a  window  facing  the  sea, 
and  as  the  day  wore  on  and  she  saw  no  sign 
of  boat  of  any  sort,  she  finally  renounced  the 
attempt  to  keep  her  mind  in  tune  with  fiction. 
She  snatched  a  brief  luncheon  and  omitted 
siesta,  returning  to  her  seat  by  the  window. 
The  fate  of  Shelley  haunted  her  in  spite  of 
her  powerful  will,  and  she  sat  rigid,  her  hands 
clasped  about  her  knees,  her  face  white. 
When  Warner's  boat  shot  suddenly  round 
the  corner  of  the  island  the  relief  was  so 
great  that  without  waiting  to  find  a  sunshade 
she  ran  out  of  the  house  and  down  to  the  sands, 
reaching  his  side  before  the  boat  was  beached. 
'You  should  not  come  out  at  this  hour  — 
and  without  a  sunshade,"  he  said,  but  keep- 
ing his  face  from  her. 

"If  you  could  stand  it  for  hours  out  on 
those  hot  waters  it  will  not  hurt  me  for  a 
moment  or  two  here.  Have  you  had  any 
luncheon?" 

"I  got  a  bite  in  Basseterre.  Let  us  go  in." 
As  he  raised  himself  she  saw  that  his  face 
was  haggard,  his  eyes  faded.  He  looked 
as  if  he  had  not  slept  for  weeks.  When  they 
reached  the  living-room  he  flung  himself, 
with  a  word  of  muttered  apology,  on  a  sofa 


214          THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

and  slept  until  late.  The  dressing-bell  roused 
him  and  he  went  to  his  room,  reappearing 
at  the  dinner  table.  There  he  talked  of  his 
morning  excursion,  declaring  that  it  had  done 
him  good,  as  he  had  long  felt  in  need  of  a 
change  of  exercise,  and  had  missed  the  water. 

It  was  not  until  they  were  in  the  living-room 
again  that  he  said  abruptly:  "I  can't  do  it. 
Let  us  not  talk  about  it.  The  air  is  delight- 
fully cool.  Shall  we  order  the  carriage  and 
call  on  the  Ogilvys  ?" 

The  roads  were  deep  in  mud,  but  the  moon 
was  bright,  the  air  fresh  and  stirred  by  the  trade 
wind  that  always  found  its  way  to  Nevis  even 
in  summer  during  one  hour  of  the  twenty-four. 
Warner  played  billiards  with  Mr.  Ogilvy  and 
Anne  listened  to  the  hopes  and  fears  of  her 
hostess  respecting  Lord  Hunsdon,  while 
Felicia,  the  second  daughter,  poured  out  her 
envy  of  Medora's  good  fortune  in  enjoying 
a  London  season,  and  its  sequel  of  visits  to 
country  houses. 

They  returned  late.  Warner  was  almost 
gay  and  very  much  the  lover.  The  next  few 
days  were  magnificent  and  Anne  saw  for  the 
first  time  a  West  Indian  island  in  all  its  glory 
of  young  and  infinite  greens.  Less  like  a 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE          215 

jewel  than  in  her  golden  prime  Nevis  seemed 
to  throb  with  awakening  life  like  some  great 
Bird  of  Paradise  that  had  slept  until  spring. 
Warner  and  Anne  remained  out  of  doors  in 
all  but  the  hotter  hours,  and  the  poet  was 
once  more  the  normal  young  husband,  rich 
in  the  possession  of  a  beautiful  and  sympa- 
thetic wife.  Anne  was  wise  enough  to  make 
no  allusion  to  the  unborn  poem.  When 
curiosity  piqued  or  impatience  beset,  she  in- 
voked the  ugly  shade  of  Lady  Byron,  and 
resolved  anew  that  while  alert  to  play  her 
part  in  Warner's  life,  she  would  be  guided 
wholly  by  events. 

The  rains  began  again,  those  terrible  rains 
of  a  tropic  summer,  when  the  heavens  are  in 
flood  and  open  their  gates,  beating  palm  tops 
to  earth,  tearing  the  long  leaves  of  the  banana 
tree  to  ribbons,  turning  the  roads  into  roaring 
torrents,  and  day  into  night.  Boats  were 
used  in  the  streets  of  Charlestown.  The 
heat  was  stifling.  The  Caribbean  Sea  roared 
as  if  boiling  tides  were  forcing  their  way  from 
Mount  Misery  on  St.  Kitts  to  the  crater  of 
Nevis.  Warner  pretended  to  read  during 
the  day,  but  it  was  not  long  before  Anne  dis- 
covered that  he  stole  from  his  room  every 


216          THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

night,  and  she  knew  his  goal.  He  appeared 
at  the  nine  o'clock  breakfast,  however,  and 
neither  made  allusion  to  the  vigils  written  in 
his  face.  At  first  it  was  merely  haggard, 
but  before  long  misery  grew  and  deepened, 
misery  and  utter  hopelessness;  until  Anne 
could  not  bear  to  look  at  him. 

The  storms  continued.  Ten  days  passed. 
Anne  was  not  sure  that  he  even  slept  in  the 
daytime.  He  ceased  to  speak  at  all,  although 
he  managed  to  convey  to  Anne  his  gratitude 
that  she  was  good  enough  to  let  him  alone. 
Once  she  suggested  a  trip  to  England  as  soon 
as  they  could  get  a  packet  for  Barbadoes,  but 
he  merely  shook  his  head,  and  Anne  knew 
that  he  would  not  stir  from  Nevis. 

There  came  a  night  when  Anne  too  gave 
up  all  attempt  to  sleep.  Even  after  her 
illness  she  had  found  no  difficulty  in  resuming 
the  long  unbroken  rest  of  youth,  but  youth 
had  taken  itself  off  in  a  fright. 

On  this  night  she  wandered  about  and 
faced  the  truth.  It  was  a  night  to  assist  the 
least  imaginative  to  face  an  unhappy  crisis. 
A  small  hurricane  raged,  seeming  to  burst 
in  wild  roars  from  Nevis  itself.  The  streams 
on  the  mountain  were  cataracts.  The  sea 


"  Then  she  left  the  room  again  " 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE          217 

threatened  the  island.  At  another  time, 
Anne,  like  other  West  Indians,  would  have 
paid  incessant  visits  to  the  barometer,  but 
to-night  she  cared  nothing  for  the  threat  of  the 
elements.  A  storm  raged  within  her,  and 
she  had  a  perfect  comprehenison  of  the  mad- 
ness and  despair  in  the  library. 

She  was  out  of  her  fool's  paradise  at  last. 
She  knew  that  he  would  never  write  his 
drama  without  the  aid  that  marvellous  but 
rotten  spot  in  his  brain  demanded.  And 
its  delivery  was  in  her  hands.  He  was  the 
soul  of  honour,  unselfish,  high-minded.  He 
had  taken  the  woman  he  loved  better  than 
himself  into  his  life  and  he  would  keep  the 
promise  he  had  voluntarily  made  her  unless 
she  released  him.  He  would  conquer  and 
kill  the  best  part  of  him. 

Anne  had  no  apprehension  of  his  physical 
death.  No  doubt  his  mere  bodily  well- 
being  would  go  on  increasing  after  the  struggle 
was  over;  but  what  of  his  maimed  and  thwarted 
intellect,  the  mind-emptiness  of  a  man 
who  had  known  the  greatest  of  mortal  joys, 
mental  creation?  What  of  the  haunting 
knowledge  throughout  a  possibly  long  life,  of 
having  deliberately  done  a  divine  gift  to  death  ? 


218          THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

Anne  felt  like  a  murderer  herself.  She 
went  suddenly  out  into  the  gallery,  and 
stood  for  a  moment  with  her  arms  rigidly 
upraised  to  the  black  rolling  sky.  There 
was  no  response  in  the  fury  of  the  rain  that 
drowned  her  face,  and  compelled  her  to 
bend  her  head. 

The  great  banana  tree  was  whipping  about 
like  an  alive  creature  in  agony.  She  could 
hardly  keep  her  breath,  and  the  salt  spray 
flew  over  the  roof  and  touched  her  lips.  The 
elements  roared  and  shrieked  and  whistled 
in  a  colossal  orchestra,  and  above  them  she 
could  hear  that  most  uncanny  of  all  sounds 
in  a  West  Indian  storm,  the  rattling  of  the 
hard  seeds  of  the  giant  tree  in  their  brittle 
pods. 

But  the  noise  inflamed  rather  than  be- 
numbed the  tumult  in  her  soul.  Little  as 
her  husband  suspected  it,  the  gossip  of  Bath 
House  and  her  own  imagination  had  enabled 
her  to  realise  the  being  he  was  and  the  life  he 
led  when  transformed  by  drink.  She  had 
long  since  put  those  images  from  her, 
but  they  peopled  the  gallery  to-night.  And 
they  were  hideous,  loathsome.  She  felt  old 
and  dry  and  wrecked  and  polluted  in  the 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE          219 

mere  contemplation  of  them.  Could  even 
her  love  survive  such  an  ordeal?  Or  life? 
She  had  experienced  mortal  happiness  to  an 
extraordinary  degree.  Were  she  firm  now, 
she  might  know  it  again  —  not  to  the  same 
degree  —  doubtless  not  —  but  all  that  a  mere 
mortal  had  any  right  to  expect  after  that  one 
foretaste  of  immortality.  She  had  her  rights. 
Her  life  could  be  made  monstrous  for  a  time; 
then  she  would  go  back  and  live  on  through 
countless  years  by  the  North  Sea.  For  did 
Warner  return  to  the  habits  of  the  years  that 
had  preceded  their  marriage  his  extinction 
would  be  a  mere  question  of  time.  He 
might  survive  this  work,  and  another;  for 
he  would  never  return  to  this  battle  between 
his  love  for  her  and  for  a  love  older  still  and 
far  more  deeply  ingrained.  A  year  or  two 
and  he  would  be  under  the  island. 

And  in  any  case  he  must  suffer.  As  far 
as  he  was  concerned  it  was  a  question  which 
was  the  less  of  the  evils.  If  he  returned  from 
a  long  disgrace  in  Charlestown  to  face  her 
again,  not  even  the  great  work  he  had 
accomplished  would  make  him  hate  himself 
the  less,  atone  for  the  final  ruin  of  his 
self-respect.  If  he  conquered  he  would  be 


220          THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

a  maimed  and  blighted  being  for  the  rest  of 
his  days. 

And  then  the  grinning  images  disappeared 
and  she  had  another  vision.  She  saw  Warner 
ten  years  hence,  a  sleek  and  prosperous 
planter,  taking  an  occasional  recreation  in  the 
great  capital  with  his  handsome  wife,  and 
smirking  at  the  reminders  of  its  prostration 
before  his  glorious  youth ;  congratulating  him- 
self and  her  at  his  escape ;  that  his  soul,  not  his 
body,  was  rotting  under  Nevis. 

Anne  turned  her  face  to  the  wall  and 
pressed  her  hands  to  her  eyes.  The  noise 
of  the  storm  she  no  longer  heard,  but  the 
picture  filled  her  with  terror.  What  right 
had  either  he  or  she  to  consider  so  insignifi- 
cant and  transient  a  thing  as  human  happi- 
ness, the  welfare  of  the  body  that  began  its 
decay  with  its  birth  ?  Genius  of  mental 
creation  was  the  most  mysterious,  the  most 
God-like  of  all  gifts,  as  well  as  the  rarest;  the 
herd  of  small  composers  counted  no  more  than 
the  idle  gossip  that  filled  up  awkward  pauses. 
Great  gifts  were  not  without  purpose  bestowed ; 
and  as  they  should  be  exercised  for  the  good 
of  the  inarticulate  millions  so  should  they  be 
carefully  tended  until  Time  alone  extinguished 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE          221 

them.  In  Warner  this  great  gift  of  poetic 
imagination  combined  with  a  lyric  melody 
never  excelled,  was  to  his  nature  what  religion 
was  to  common  mortals.  It  had  kept  the 
white  flame  of  his  inner  life  burning  undimned 
when  men  whose  lives  were  creditable  had 
long  since  forgotten  that  souls,  except  as  mere 
religious  furniture,  were  to  be  taken  into 
account. 

Warner  had  been  singled  out  to  enrich  the 
world  of  letters.  That  was  his  mission  on 
earth;  all,  no  doubt,  that  he  had  been  born 
for.  Youthful  training  exercised  hardly  more 
influence  upon  the  development  of  the  race 
than  literature.  If  it  had  no  mission  it  would 
never  have  tracked  through  the  infinite  variety 
of  interests  in  the  mundane  mind  to  become 
one  of  the  earthly  viceroys  of  God.  And 
the  chosen  were  few.  Nor  had  Warner,  con- 
sciously or  not,  been  indifferent  to  the  sacred- 
ness  of  his  wardship.  Never  for  a  moment 
had  it  felt  the  blight  of  his  wild  and  often 
gross  and  sordid  life.  He  had  been  passion- 
ate but  never  sensual,  romantic  and  primal, 
but  never  immoral.  He  had  consoled  thou- 
sands for  the  penance  of  living,  and  he  had 
written  much  that  would  perish  only  with  the 


222          THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE 

English  language.  All  this  might  be  as  noth- 
ing to  what  strove  for  delivery  now.  And 
this  he  was  desperately  engaged  in  stifling  to 
death;  and  not  the  beauty  of  his  mind  alone 
but  of  his  nature,  for  beyond  all  doubt  his 
gentleness  and  sweetness  and  refinement 
were  as  much  a  part  of  his  genius  as  irritabil- 
ity and  violence  were  fellows  to  the  genius 
of  other  men. 

Anne  was  tempted  to  wish  that  he  had 
died  before  she  met  him,  taken  body  and 
unmaimed  gifts  out  of  life  before  she  was 
burdened  with  their  keep.  But  she  was  a 
strong  women  and  the  wish  passed.  The  wild 
ebullition  of  self  had  gone  before.  She  did 
not  recall  her  promises  to  Hunsdon  but  she 
remembered  her  solemn  acknowledgment 
of  her  responsibilities  the  night  before  her 
marriage  and  her  silent  vows  at  the  altar. 

Suddenly  she  became  aware  that  she  was 
soaked  to  the  skin.  She  went  hastily  within 
and  changed  her  clothes,  wrung  out  her 
hair  and  twisted  it  up.  Then  she  went  to 
the  library  and  opened  the  door  softly. 
Warner  was  sitting  at  the  table  with  his  face 
pressed  to  the  wood,  his  arms  flung  outward 
among  the  scattered  white  blank  sheets. 


THE  GORGEOUS  ISLE          223 

Anne  longed  to  go  forward  and  take  his  head 
into  the  shelter  of  her  deep  maternal  bosom. 
But  it  was  not  the  time  for  sentiment,  maternal 
or  connubial.  To  reach  his  plane  and  solve 
his  problem  she  must  leave  her  sex  behind  her, 
and  treat  him  as  a  man  and  a  comrade.  She 
left  the  room,  and  returning  a  moment  later 
placed  the  decanter  of  brandy  and  a  tumbler 
on  the  table  beside  him.  Then  she  left  the 
room  again. 


tf-B 
C 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A     000  806  535     1 


